The New Dark Lord
by AussiePhoenix
Summary: Harry's vision indicates he's in grave danger. The people he trusts the most, are those he is supposed to fear. Enemies become allies, and trusted friends turn. COMPLETE First of trilogy.
1. Dreams and visions

**The New Dark Lord**

**Chapter 1: Dreams and visions**

The battlefield was long and bloody. There was no distinguishing between good or evil out here. Now, it was simply a fight to stay alive. If someone attacked, you defended yourself. If someone looked off, you attacked. Blood pooled everywhere, you were lucky to find dry land. The battle was covered in a kind of black and white haze, sometimes black was stronger then white, sometimes the white would be stronger then the black.

As he trudged along, Harry Potter could see people he knew, people he cared for as they fought or fell. He could see his teachers battling to defeat the Death Eaters, he saw Professor Flitwick's miniature body lying dead still on the ground, no marks, no blood, just a flash of green light and it was all over. Nearby he saw Dean Thomas, he had fallen trying to protect his Professor's back. He had a gash that started at his right shoulder and carried all the way down to the top of his left thigh. The blood was still fresh as it dribbled from his wound. It was clear that he had fallen recently, so recently, the life was still almost palpable. So close, and yet so impossible to retrieve.

Harry clenched his jaw and his fists as he stumbled forward a few more steps, his eyes burning, not with tears, but with hate. He hated Voldemort so much at that moment he believed that it was tangible. His chest was aflutter, not with nerves, but with the ready knowledge that he was about to commit murder. That he had to. He stepped forward.

Now he could see Snape battling a Death Eater, who was unrecognisable through the black robes and white mask. From where Harry was standing, the Death Eater was desperately trying to hold his own, and failing miserably. Beyond that Professor McGonagall fought two Death Eaters with Hagrid by her side, flailing his pink umbrella. Somewhere in the midst of all this was Dumbledore, he was using all of his strength to hold Voldemort in place. To hold him, for Harry.

Even in the midst of battle, Harry couldn't help the bitter thought of 'holding him, until I can do his dirty work.' Every step he took he could feel the force of the shield Dumbledore had around Voldemort. It held spells against everything he could thing of. Apparition, transfiguration, every potion imaginable, none could be consumed within its boundaries. No spells could escape it. No spells could get past it, no person could get past it, except for Harry. Dumbledore had created it for just this purpose.

Harry approached the barrier. There was no hesitation in his stride, just pure hate, hate for this man, who had done so many terrible things to him in the past. Who had done everything he could to kill Harry Potter. In truth, he had. Harry Potter was long gone and dead. The boy who walked so steadily towards his fate was no more Harry Potter then anyone else on the battlefield. He was a shell of Harry Potter. He was broken and rebuilt. He had been so many times, he was sure pieces of him were missing.

The barrier was only centre metres in front of him as he reached out, his hand not shaking, he was prepared for this moment. He had been in training for it since he was born. Every harsh word anyone had ever spoken, every abusive trait the Dursley's had shown him, every moment of the day Snape had despised him, and let him know, Harry had been training. The insults had made him hard. The training had made him strong. The lessons had made him smart. And the deaths had made him ready. The deaths of his parents, the death of Sirius, the death of Lupin, the last man Harry truly believed cared for him. For _him_ and not for his scar. And most of all, what had prepared him for this moment, was the death of himself. The death of Harry Potter, and all the name stood for.

With a ruthlessness Voldemort had not been expecting, Harry thrust his hand through the shield, then the rest of his body. He saw the man, not quite cowering, but not quite standing tall. Harry raised his wand, murder in his eyes. He opened his mouth, ready to speak the final words, when suddenly…laughter.

He heard laughter. Laughter, on a battlefield of pain and death. He turned his head slightly. Dumbledore was laughing, McGonagall was laughing. Hagrid, Hermione, Snape, Ron, they were all laughing. Flitwick and Dean were being lifted from the ground by laughing Death Eaters. The Death Eaters rubbed away some dirt from the Professor's robes before setting him on his feet, where he promptly began laughing. The battlefield was shaking with uproarious laughs. Even Voldemort was laughing, a high pitched cackle that sent shivers down Harry's spine as he stood there, wand raised, confusion in his eyes.

Voldemort smirked once more as he stepped from the shield that Dumbledore had up. Harry didn't understand. He lunged after the Dark Lord, only to fall backwards as the shield stung and forced him away. The laughter continued as Dumbledore stepped into full view, his deep blue eyes sparkling with the hilarity he seemed to find in such a serious situation.

"You never even suspected, Harry," he laughed, as the globe encompassing the boy grew closer around him. "You truly believed what we were doing was for a cause. You thought we could defeat Lord Voldemort? You believed we even wished to? Together he and I make the most powerful overlords ever to rule the earth. And you, Harry, are a nuisance. You believed us, all the lies, the manipulations. You believed us when we told you that we were doing all for the greater good. You never even guessed that the whole thing was simply organised, for your own imminent demise. Your time has come, Harry, and you never saw it coming."

The white shield was so small Harry couldn't breath. It was suffocating him. The first touch of the magic on his skin was torturous, as his eyes met with Dumbledore's he saw the manipulation and lies for what they truly were, the truth. Always the truth. Harry threw himself against the barrier with a godforsaken howl of agony. The white light blinded him. He closed his eyes against it and threw himself with all of his might. Again and again, as he felt his magic and his life bleed away…

"Harry. HARRY!" Someone called his name, even as he died someone called him. Always someone needed something of him, well this time they were not going to get it. He struggled against the shield, against the force that stopped him from moving. He discovered it no longer hurt to struggle. "Harry, lye still." That voice held no humour. Harry's head was pounding. He didn't understand what was going on. Were they trying to torture him?

"Just…let…me…die," he gasped, even as he felt his whole body convulse. "Manipulative…all of you…let me die in peace."

"Harry it's alright," that quite voice repeated. "Open your eyes."

Harry's eyes flickered for a moment. The white light was gone. He could see. Had they removed the shield? He opened his eyes wide, preparing to spring as soon as freedom gave him such an offering. Instead he saw so many faces, all staring down at him. Down? When had he lain down? He groaned, he hurt so badly. The world was beginning to slow down now. It had stopped spinning and his eyes began to focus. In front of him he could see the face he least wanted to see. Dumbledore. He had betrayed Harry, Harry never wanted to see him again, unless it was when he had a wand in hand and enough strength to kill him. But he knew one thing, he would not be played again, and he was damned if he was going to die the way this bastard wanted.

Harry kicked out, his legs heavy and painful as he forced himself back several feet, only to come into contact with a pair of shoes. He whimpered and tried going to the side, aware of Dumbledore's eyes on him.

"Harry?" he asked softly as the boy whimpered. "You're alright. You're at Hogwarts. You're safe."

Harry looked around him, trying to calm himself but starkly aware of his racing heart and perspiration running down his face. He saw dozens and dozens of students and was intently aware of more beyond them. He saw Professor Dumbledore, crouching down to Harry's level, concern in his blue eyes. He could see Professor McGonagall and Snape behind the headmaster. All of them manipulated him. He saw the house tables from between the legs of the students, he saw the enchanted ceiling he had been eating dinner under for six years.

They had failed in whatever attempt they had made on his life, that was clear, and he stood. Dumbledore smiled and stepped forward, clearly about to take Harry's arm. The boy stepped back and collided with the crowd. He wasn't going to be taken, not this time. Dumbledore's smile faltered for a moment.

"Harry?" he asked softly, coming closer.

Harry stepped away once more, the students behind him moved. Dumbledore's frown increased.

"Harry? It's okay. You're okay. You're at Hogwarts. You're safe."

Harry shook his head wildly, his black hair swishing and falling just as out of place as it had been when he'd run a brush through it that morning.

"Potter, there is nothing to worry about," Snape said, his voice full of contempt. "I can assure you that we are able to protect you against anything that may step into this school."

"Oh yeah? Can you protect me from yourselves?" Harry shot back, his eyes wide and fearful, like a skittish colt just waiting for a way out.

He found it.

As Hermione stepped forward to speak to him, a gap was created in the crowd. Before he listened to anything more, Harry was off. He dashed through the gap, leapt onto the Gryffindor table and bolted through the doors of the Great Hall, skidding to a halt long enough to change direction and run through the doors out of the Entrance Hall and into the grounds. He wouldn't stop. He wouldn't be caught. He wouldn't be manipulated any more.

His breath was harsh and short, he knew he wouldn't be able to run for long. The blood was pumping through his veins, and in between his ears. He ran for cover, the only cover he could see. He ran for the Forbidden Forest.

The branches reached down as he entered the darkness. They tore at his clothes, at his hair. They all reached out to touch him, the boy-who-lived. He knew he was in danger here, he didn't care. He felt the tears come, finally, as he slowed his pace, as he felt his legs tremble. He forced himself to keep going, into the centre of the Forbidden Forest, as far in as he could. Harry kept going, until Hogwarts was nowhere to be seen. Then he collapsed under a tree, and cried.

A/N: This is just a test chapter to see how people react. As such, reviews are important so please take the time to give me your opinion. My updates will be as often as I can make them, probably once a week. I've got exams in a few weeks which may slow me down, but after that over a month's worth of holidays! Which means lots of updates if people like it! Please review.


	2. Centaurs, dragons, and a little fun

**Chapter 2: Centaurs, dragons, and a little fun. **

"He should not be here, what we do with him is our right!" A voice, clearly loud and angry, snarled. "They have explicitly told us the forest is not for students, here is a student, he will not leave with his life!"

"He is not simply any student," another voice argued, this one was calm and collected, but a tinge of anger still bordered on the edge of the words. "He is Harry Potter. He is destined to save our world. You are aware of this, it has been foreseen in the stars. The stars do not lie."

Harry sat up groggily, pulling himself from his sleeping state as fast as he could, but aware he wasn't doing a very good job of it. The voices, they were fighting over him. Where was he? What was he doing here? Why had his bed suddenly become so hard? He fiddled with his glasses until they rested more firmly upon his nose and the world came into focus again.

He was leaning against a hard tree, giving an explanation to the aching in his neck, and sitting on an assortment of pine needles and leaves. He was in the middle of the forest. His heart sank. The Forbidden Forest. He looked up at the person…thing that had spoken in his defence. Firenze the centaur stood in front of him. Arguing with him was another centaur, this one wasn't one Harry recognised.

"He is in our forest, damaging our soil…"

"It is not _ours, _Werint, we don't own anything upon this earth, save ourselves," Firenze said softly. "We may borrow the soil, the air, the trees. We may borrow our food and our water, but we own nothing. The greater forces own it all, we merely live in a borrowed world."

Werint snorted in a rude way and glared at Harry. Harry raised an eyebrow in return. What had he done to offend the centaurs lately?

"You, Firenze, have no right to tell me anything. My sons and daughters may order you around now, if it so pleases them to do so. You are lower then the newest born babe in the pecking order, if you remember? We have allowed you back, we will not make the mistake a second time."

His words had deadly undertones of warning. Firenze would bend to Werint's wishes, or he would be run from the forest, or worse, killed. Harry half prayed for Firenze to leave, to spare any more blood spilt on his account, and half prayed for him to stay, to save Harry's blood being split.

"Firenze, just go," he croaked, his voice coated in pain, he realised the agony from whatever had happened the previous day had yet to leave him. 'So much for 'sleeping it off,' he thought grimly.

The centaur looked down his nose at Harry.

"I will not," he replied calmly. "Harry Potter is in much danger here. Harry Potter must leave at once."

"Yes he must," Harry agreed as he forced himself to stand, but stumbled almost immediately. "But he may take a while at that," he added sarcastically to himself.

"You will not leave alive today, Harry Potter," the words were laced in derision Harry normally associated with Snape. Of course Snape had never literally had the intention of killing Harry…or so the young Gryffindor hoped.

"You, will, not, harm, him," Firenze growled, his voice throaty as he stepped between Harry and Werint. A strange, deep rumbling noise shook the ground around them, also successfully distracting the centaurs for a moment.

"What was that?" Harry asked, aware that his voice was completely calm, with no hint of fear in it and priding himself on it, considering his insides had just turned to jelly and his heart was breaking the record for how fast it could beat in a minute.

"The…the planets just realigned," stammered Werint, before doing a very un-centaur like thing and galloping away.

Firenze snorted with scorn as the younger male disappeared and turned to face Harry, looking him over as if wondering why he was there.

"Idiotic fool," he muttered. "The planets do not simply 'realign' as much as Werint seems to believe, Mr Potter. That was not anything divine it was…" Firenze paused for a moment as another rumble rushed over the ground, shaking the trees to their roots and scaring the birds from their perching points. "That was an Acromantula war cry. Someone is attacking their eggs."

Harry's eyes widened. He knew he wouldn't be stupid enough to attack an Acromantula, their eggs, their webs or, simply, be within two kilometres of them without a damn good reason. He heard a loud screech that made his stomach roll in fear. It was a dragon. Another screech, at least two, maybe three of them. Surely Hogwarts had wards against such beasts? He remembered something Dumbledore, manipulative bastard that he was, had said to him a long time ago, after a game of cat and mouse in the forest where he had almost been killed by one of the beasts that lay within.

"_The protections of Hogwarts will keep all within her safe, Harry, to the point where no wizard or witch may pass the boundaries undetected. No foreign or dark object can enter the school or the grounds unless the wards have been ripped from their many centuries old roots. You cannot apperate or fly into or out of Hogwarts, although I'm sure Miss Granger would have spoken to you about the contents of Hogwarts a History already._

_I must ask you though, Harry, never to wander into the Forbidden Forest again without complete necessity. Though the same protections have been lain down upon it, all around it, no matter how many wards we lay upon it beasts of any kind, shape or form will always be able to enter. The Forest itself was here long before Hogwarts, and is a haven for many animals. There is old magic in every tree, every leaf, every root. The beasts that reside in the forest may not come further without invitation by a master of this school, but the forest is truly a law unto itself." _

This was the first time Harry had ignored his headmaster's advice and chosen for the more dangerous option. He didn't care, not really. After all, he would rather be in here with beasts of clear intent, then out there with people who would tear him to shreds whilst telling him they were helping his posture. He snorted but was drawn from his thoughts by Firenze's urgent voice.

"Harry Potter must leave now, the forest is not safe."

Harry felt sickened as he could swear he just heard an animal squealing as it was slaughtered. No matter what beast it was, it didn't deserve that death. He turned in the direction of the sound, determined to help it, whatever it was.

"Harry Potter must leave, now!" Firenze sounded almost desperate now, he moved to block Harry.

"No Firenze, return to your family. I have to find these creatures," Harry said, his eyes set with determination as he made his move, wand now clutched firmly in his hand.

Before Firenze could protest, he was off down a rough almost-there path created by breaks in the trees and rocks. He felt the branches whipping him as they had the previous day, was it the previous day? Had he been asleep a whole night? Or a couple of hours? A couple of minutes even? He shook his head as another rumble broke the still air. It didn't matter.

He burst forth from the shrub and darkness into a huge clearing, surrounded and covered in sticky spiders webs. He had been here before. This was where Aragog had lived before he had passed on and the Acromantula had turned on Hagrid. Now Harry saw what had been making that god-awful sound of a torturous death. Three dragons circled the clearing, taking turns to dive and run their claws through an Acromantula, or spit fire at them.

The first was a Hebridean Black. It was huge, thirty feet long at least. Its purple eyes showed the aggression it put into each killing, no, massacre. Its rough scales almost disguised the shallow, razor-sharp ridges along its back. It seemed to take pleasure in using the arrow-pointed tail it wielded to slice open the Acromantula heads.

The second dragon Harry identified was Ukrainian Ironbelly. Although how the hell it got to Britain, Harry couldn't fathom. It looked like it was fully-grown for its species, meaning it weighed about six tonnes. Its metallic grey scales contrasted harshly with its deep red eyes. It was taking turns squashing its victims with its huge body, and slashing them with its well proportioned talons.

The irony of the third dragon was not lost on Harry, who let out a short, sharp laugh. It was a Norwegian Ridgeback. About five years old from the looks of it. It could have been baby Norbert, the dragon Hagrid had so loved when Harry was in his first year at Hogwarts. The dragon was jet black, including the ridges on its back. It seemed to enjoy crisping the Acromantula, something Harry remembered Norbert had enjoyed doing to Hagrid's beard when he was only a day old.

Harry's laugh had alerted them to his presence. Oh well, if he had thought about backing out of the fight it was too late now. He just prayed the Acromantula could put aside their hostility towards humans long enough to let him help them.

As he stepped forth, more directly into the clearing he raised his wand and spoke clearly, for dragons were intelligent, and most of them did learn their native languages and then some. He wanted no more blood to spill.

"Hear my plead, my brothers," he spoke, his voice deep and powerful. He wasn't sure why he spoke to the dragons as 'brothers' but it seemed to make them pause for a moment so he ploughed on, after laughing heartily at himself in his mind. Who did he think he was, Dumbledore? "There is no need for this senseless slaughter. What is it you seek so desperately that must end in murder?" _I, am, a, tool. _Harry was in hysterics in his mind.

The Hebridean Black reared in the air, letting out a huge, spine-chilling screech of agonising pain. Harry didn't understand how but he understood. The Hebridean Black had been nesting when one of her eggs had been stolen. The same, sad story was told by the Ironbelly and the Ridgeback, although he was the father, the mother had been killed for her tail.

Harry turned to the Acromantula. He scanned over the silent and still beasts until he spotted a group of younger looking ones, who were attempting to hide subtly in the shadows.

"Step forward," he demanded, pointing to the group, all the while laughing at himself in his head. He sounded very aristocratic. Almost like Lucius Malfoy. The four Acromantula stepped forward, he could have sworn they were shivering. "What did you take the eggs for?"

One of them was shoved forward by her friend. Harry felt the slightest twinge of sympathy for her before he placed his stone-cold face back on.

"We…we…we are unable to produce our own young," the Acromantula said softly. "We are a disgrace, despised by our family. We had to find something, anything that makes us worthy of being part of the clan. Our young are often snatched away by the animals of the forest. It is most distressing. We need a way to protect them."

"So you, despite having felt the pain of losing young yourself, decided to take away the eggs of these three dragons?" Harry demanded, thinking the whole conversation was ridiculously hypocritical. The young Acromantula had the decency to blush.

"We were going to care for them, raise them. They would protect our young. We were never going to harm them," she said, attempting to justify their reasoning.

"And yet you inadvertently hurt their parents in doing so," Harry pointed out softly. He wished Snape was here right now. Harry was using words that the potion's master wouldn't even believe he could pronounce, let alone use correctly.

The Ironbelly gave a huge screech, which Harry understood as a protest about what Harry had to do with anything, and why he believed he had the right to try and fix it. Then, with no further warning, she swooped, talons outstretched.

Harry's reflexes certainly weren't what they should be, as he tried to get his legs moving. They wouldn't. He stayed rooted to the spot, staring the great beast in the eye as she came at him, ready to slash him to pieces. Suddenly a second cry cut through the air. This one was of the Ridgeback, who swooped as well. Now Harry knew he was thoroughly dead. Against one dragon, even as large as the Ironbelly, he might have stood a chance. Against two? He was dead already.

He refused to take his eyes off of the red ones baring down on him, which reminded him starkly of Lord Voldemort. He shivered and waited for those great claws to rip through him. That moment never came. The Norwegian Ridgeback had changed course and charged into the Ironbelly's side, knocking the great creature off course.

The Ironbelly regained her balance and swirled viciously, her rage clear in her murderous, blood-red eyes. The Ridgeback didn't seem fazed though and merely let out a small screech, almost like polite conversation. As Harry made out the words his face lit up with a grin. 'The boy is doing no harm. He is a good human. He helped me reach my freedom, instead of my death.'

"Norbert!" Harry couldn't help himself as he cried out. The dragon gave a small nod in his direction to greet him.

The Ironbelly, still looking angry and disgruntled, flew back into the air. Norbert inclined his head slightly at Harry to indicate he should continue playing mediator. Harry took a deep breath and did so, turning back to the young Acromantula, who were being told off in their own language by several severe looking adults.

"Get the eggs," he commanded evenly. The Acromantula looked as if they mightn't obey, until one of the older ones knocked a hairy leg on another's head. That one scuttled to do Harry's bidding, as did the rest of the group. They returned with three eggs, rolling them in front of them with gentle care. The Ironbelly got outraged at this and swooped at Harry again.

This time, Norbert wasn't able to intervene. Harry felt the claws tear through his left shoulder as he dove to the side, grabbing his wand as he did so. He didn't want to hurt the dragon, so he refused to use the spells he'd heard about in the Triwizard Cup. He knew that without several other wizards and witches by his side, Stupefy wouldn't work. He wracked his brain as Norbert attempted to head off the dragon again. This time it was he who was knocked to the side.

Norbert was no match for the massive weight of the Ironbelly and he fell heavily to the ground, colliding with a tree. Harry shouted out a spell and immediately two deep blue shields erected themselves around the other dragons. They wouldn't be hurt because of him. He could have used the spell on himself but he refused to make the Ironbelly angrier, which the use of shield magic would do without a doubt.

"I am not trying to harm you!" he shouted out, his voice holding power once more. "I am just trying to help. I've retrieved your egg, you are free to take it, why do you insist on trying to hurt me?"

He got no reply, he hadn't expected one.

"Fine," he growled finally. Raising his wand he pointed it squarely at the diving dragon. "_Semoharmonia!" _he bellowed, hearing his own voice echoing throughout the Forbidden Forest as birds flew from the trees.

A jet of grey light shot out from his wand and struck the Ironbelly fair in the mouth. It did what it had been asked to, created a gentle feeling of calm around the animal. It was as reassuring as a mother's hug to an infant, as a best friend's presence to a teenager, and as the love of your life for an adult. The Ironbelly pulled up, making a pleasant crooning sound as it blinked in surprise.

"I will not hurt you, nor will I hurt them," Harry told the dragon gently, waving a hand at the Acromantula. "I merely wish you to stop your fighting, so we may continue living in peace."

Now she had calmed down, the Ironbelly saw the rationality in these words and crooned once more, swooping low to land clumsily on the ground, bowing her head to take the egg in her mouth, then dropping it carefully in her pouch. With a further croon, she took to the air and began to fly away.

Harry released the shield on the Hebridean Black. If he was honest, he was surprised it hadn't been the Black attacking him. They were known for their aggression and he had seen the pleasure it took from its killing. Instead it had stayed calm, proving to be an intelligent beast. It too took its egg with the care only a mother could give, then turned to Harry and giving a high pitched chortle, which Harry understood to mean if he needed her, he need only call. He nodded in respect as she took to the air, then turned to find Norbert.

The great beast was curled under the tree, dark purple blood spilling from one side. Harry had a hunch the Ironbelly had done more then ram into the younger dragon. Harry rushed to Norbert's side, removing the shield so he could better see the wound. It had a shimmer of black magic around it.

"It'll be okay Norbert, I'll just get Hag…" Norbert let out a mournful cry. He didn't want Harry to leave. "Okay I can stay I just…don't know what to…"

Harry stopped speaking. As soon as he had touched the dragon white had flowed from his hands and began to circle the wound, cleaning away the dark magic and purple blood. It moved to criss-cross the gash, like it was stitching it up, pulling the scales together carefully. The white magic slowed and stopped finally, the wound was not only healed, but all traces of it had disappeared.

"What on…" Harry stepped back, glancing at his hands in awe. He looked up at Norbert who had climbed clumsily to his feet and moved to take his egg. The dragon looked back, amusement or something like it in his eyes.

_You have helped the beasts of this forest, you have received gifts for your service. From the dragons you have received knowledge of our language, the healing, you must work out on your own._

And with that, Norbert unfurled his huge wings and took to the skies, circling once with a huge screech which Harry was sure would have been heard back at the castle. It was Norbert telling him the same as the Hebridean Black had, call and he would come.

"Thank-you!" Harry yelled as he flew away. Had to tell Hagrid about this. The healing though, how had that…oh.

Harry had turned around to see the Acromantula carefully helping their wounded, stitching and weaving just as Harry had done, using the same techniques a normal spider would to weave a web. One Acromantula, the leader Harry recalled from last time, stepped forth. He shivered, afraid despite of himself.

"You have done us a great service, Harry Potter," the Acromantula said, inclining his head in a sort of half-bow. The rest of the clan followed his lead. "I see that Hagrid was truly right about you. You did not harm, even when you were being attacked, you served to help, not to hurt. For this we honour you." Harry had to flinch. He didn't want honour…not more of it anyway. "We give you our gift of healing, though you will not be able to use it on yourself. We also give you free and safe passage when you pass through this forest. Know that you need only call and we shall help you."

With that the great Acromantula bowed again and scuttled into the huge hole at the back of the shelter. The other beasts followed closely, each giving a nod of respect to Harry as they passed him. It was a major difference to the time they had wanted to eat him. He acknowledged each one and smiled at the young, female Acromantula who had had to do all of the talking as she muttered, 'my name is Artilia, I'm sorry' before hurrying her steps.

Harry was aware of the fact he was bleeding quite badly now and felt himself shivering from the effort of staying upright without swaying. He considered for a moment, calling back the Acromantula and asking them to heal him, but decided against it.

Instead he pushed through the thick bows of the trees, hoping he was going in the right direction for Hogwarts. He didn't want to, he didn't need the manipulative liars trying to knock him off, but he knew if he didn't get healed soon he would be dead within an hour anyway. He wondered dizzily if he could even last an hour, if he could keep going long enough to find the school, if he could take another step.

Like a blinding saviour, out of the dark trees came Firenze.

"Harry Potter is hurt!" he observed.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, gritting his teeth.

"Get on my back," commanded Firenze. "I shall take you to the school." Harry wanted to protest, he really did. He knew the last time Firenze had done this he had been attacked by his herd, but he was too tired, too weak. So instead he obeyed, slithering upon the centaur's horse end and clinging around his human chest.

Harry took a giddy moment to realise he liked the feel of warmth radiating from the man's chest. He yanked his mind back to the fact he was about to ride a centaur into the school after spending the night, or a few hours, well at least some time in the midst of a disappearing act, after acting very strangely in front of the whole school and practically flinching at the mere sight of Dumbledore's face.

"Firenze?" he began weakly. "When you found me, do you know how long I had been in the forest for?"

"I believe Harry Potter was in the forest for a few hours, no more," the centaur told him quietly as Harry observed the night sky. It had been dinner when he had left so it would be around eleven o'clock now. He was surprised Dumbledore hadn't come to find him. Then again, if an Acromantula had eaten Harry, it would have made the headmaster's job a lot easier wouldn't it?

Firenze clopped gently up to the doors that led into the Entrance Hall. Harry tried to slide off but a hand held him steady.

"Stay, the blood loss will not allow for much travelling."

So Harry stayed as Firenze entered the Entrance Hall, empty now of course. They travelled slowly, as Harry's grip grew slack, until they reached the hospital wing. A light was on and they heard voices conversing inside.

"This is where I must leave you," Firenze told Harry as the boy slithered down, keeping a hold of the beast until he got his balance. Harry nodded dizzily.

"Thank-you." Firenze turned and was gone before any more could be said. Harry just hoped he would be okay after his 'betrayal' of the trust of the herd he called his family. The one that treated him more often then not like a dog.

Dizzily, Harry swayed where he stood, aware of his blood dripping in a pool around his feet and all the while, he himself was getting more and more light-headed. Soon he would pass out, and he was unlikely to wake up from that sleep.

"We were expecting you," said a deep, humoured voice as Harry stumbled through the door. At once, he pulled out his wand and pointed it shakily at Albus Dumbledore who sat in a chair speaking with Madam Pomfrey.

"Put that away, what happened to you boy?" she asked briskly, but looking horrified. Harry sighed and shrugged but didn't lower his wand as she came over to fuss over his shoulder.

"Hebridean Black," he shrugged, wincing as it dragged at his injured shoulder.

"A dragon?" she swirled and glowered at Dumbledore. "A dragon? After what happened at the Triward Cup you let a dragon into the school?"

"I am not in control of what may or may not come into the Forbidden Forest, Poppy," Dumbledore said in that damn soothingly manipulative way he had. "Nor was I responsible for Mr Potter entering the forest in the first place." He shot Harry an, 'I'm very disappointed in you' look. Harry didn't care.

"Oh yeah, attempting to kill me isn't enough reason for me to get as far away from you as I can?" he spat furiously. Dumbledore looked calmly puzzled.

"I have never done anything other then try to protect you, Harry."

"Ha! I had a vision, Dumbledore," he retorted triumphantly, deliberately being disrespectful. "I know what you are, what you plan to do. And I'm not going to be around to do your dirty work," he added at a hiss.

"Mr Potter!" Madam Pomfrey reprimanded as she bandaged his wound tightly and steered him towards a bed, which he stoutly refused. "Get into bed, or I will hex you so you have to," she told him more calmly.

"Yeah? Yeah? Gonna use _Imperius_ on me are you?" Harry snarled, his eyes dancing in a kind of madness.

"Harry, please get into bed," Dumbledore said softly, rising to his feet. Harry refused, backing away from his headmaster as Madam Pomfrey followed, carrying a blood-replenishing potion. "We don't want anything to happen to you."

"Of course not," Harry spat, drinking the potion hurriedly. "Wouldn't want anything to happen to your most important pawn would you?" He was aware of having reached an open window which he promptly straddled, wand still pointed at Dumbledore who now looked shocked and concerned that Harry wasn't doing what he asked of him. "Norbert!" Harry yelled as loudly as his weakened lungs would allow.

He wondered if the dragon would be able to break through the wards to come and help him, and that minor issue of his ability to hear Harry from however far away he was. Harry remembered another part of the conversation he and Dumbledore had had.

"_Once the forest ends, Hogwarts wards are complete against any beast or human with ill-intent. Any human or beast that comes with an innocent or good intent will be able to enter through the wards. Any dark magic can be detected. And ill-will, no matter how well hidden, will always be found and prevent the person from entering, without the headmaster's permission. This, of course, does not stop people who hate each other from entering, or someone intent to hurt someone for a betrayal, provided that hurt will not be caused by dark magic. It works only for people and beasts who wish to do real damage." _

So Norbert should be able to come. Harry didn't want to think about what would happen if he didn't. He would have to fight Dumbledore himself. That wasn't a pleasant thought. He didn't want to be manipulated or lied to any more.

"Harry, please," Dumbledore stepped closer and Harry jerked his wand warningly. "I do not know what your dream showed you, but it was not real if it showed me hurting you in any way. I would never hurt you Harry, not willingly." Harry shivered. Six years worth of loyalty and trust was clashing within him against the fear and pain he was feeling all from one vision. "It has happened before Harry, is it possible Voldemort sent you the image to make you lose your trust in me? He has used the visions for his own ends before. Do not forget. Do not make the same mistake twice."

Harry paused even as he saw a dot coming closer from the horizon. It would seem Norbert had heard him and returned as soon as possible. He stared into his headmaster's deep blue eyes, no longer twinkling. Now they held a terribly troubled look of deepest concern. 'Manipulator,' a voice in his head hissed, with an uncanny resemblance to that of Lord Voldemort. That decided it for Harry. Slowly, he pulled his leg back from the windowsill and stood completely in the room. He did not yet lower his wand as he stared at Dumbledore, his green eyes flashing all of his fears and insecurities.

"Fine…fine…then tell me, which students at this school are Death Eaters?" Harry demanded, his voice thick with emotions as he felt a wind at his side and was aware of Norbert hovering at the window.

"This is not the place for this conversation, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly, moving Madam Pomfrey from the floor where she had fainted, onto a bed and tucking her in. "Perhaps my office?" He motioned towards the door.

"I think so," Harry replied coolly. "I'll meet you up there, take the wards off the window. I don't want any late-night wanderers thinking I am getting special attention. Especially not from you," he added with malice in his voice.

Dumbledore looked a little hurt but nodded his head mildly, treating Harry like a young child having a tantrum over a lolly.

"I shall see you there then. We will also need to discuss your exploits in the Forbidden Forest."

"You answer my questions and I may answer yours," Harry retorted, wondering where this newfound bravado had come from.

Dumbledore just nodded again and headed towards the door before pausing to look back at his student and opening his mouth as if to say something. He seemed to decide against it because he gave a sad shake of his head and left. Harry turned back to Norbert.

"Hello," he smiled. "Sorry to have called you here under false pretences. I had intended to let you fly me away into the sunset but now it seems I've decided to be all Gryffindor and give Dumbledore a second chance."

_That 'Gryffindor' trait you speak of is truly yourself Harry. _Norbert told him. _You shouldn't try to blame it on your house, for one it is a very noble thing to do, secondly, it is no good trying to blame others for something you are doing._

"I know," Harry sighed. "It's driving me crazy, I just don't know who I can and can't trust any more."

_You can trust me. _Norbert informed Harry with a look that could have been dragon sincerity. _I will always come, minor or major task, I do not mind. Ask me and I will come. If you need to talk to someone other then your friends, I will be here. _

"That _would_ make you a friend," Harry drawled with a slight smile.

_Yes it would. _Norbert agreed. _And happy to be one. I assure you if I am not available, one of my clan would be happy to assist. Or as you call them, my breed. Every Norwegian Ridgeback will know what you have done and none will ever doubt your honesty and courage._

"Thank-you," the young wizard smiled. "It means a lot to me. Now if it would be possible, could I get a lift to…Thanks." Norbert had already offered his wing.

Harry climbed onto it, finding it surprisingly strong and supportive of his minimal weight.

_A little fun first? _

Harry felt the powerful beat of Norbert's wings as they took off fast. He gripped the dragon's neck a little tighter. It felt better then being on a hippogriff, more comfortable, and less like each wing beat was about to knock him off. He felt almost like he was riding his broomstick, the wind zooming through his hair as they did a sweeping turn above the forest and headed towards the Quidditch Pitch. Harry reached up, feeling at that moment that he could touch the stars. He couldn't stop himself.

Damn the night.

Damn the students.

Damn them all.

"Waaaahooooooo!" he let out an elated yell which carried for miles as Norbert began to duck and turn and dive and weave with practice and ease any Quidditch player would kill for. "Waaaahooooo!" He let go of Norbert's neck, trusting the dragon not to dump him off and spread his hands out to the side as the wind swept his hair back off his face.

A/N: boxes muses' ears' I apologise for the overly dramatic clap-trap that spieled forth from my mind here and in later parts of the story. I am still determined to post it, though it is painful, and I have fixed it a little.

NEXT WEEK! Dumbledore is injured, Harry realises his new powers, and everyone's favourite snarky professor pays a rather protective visit in **Chapter 3: Blood and Bones**


	3. Blood and Bones

**Chapter 3: Blood and Bones**

Norbert turned sharply.

_Hold on._

It was all the warning Harry got and he threw his arms around the Ridgeback's neck as they went into a loop-de-loop. Harry laughed and grinned as they turned and dived at the ground, pulling out just in time to save Norbert a serious headache.

"The Wronski Feint!" he yelled above the hissing winds which battered at him from all angles, making him feel as alive as he ever had on the quidditch pitch, and twice as safe with the dragon beneath him.

_We dragons require entertainment from time to time too, Harry. _Norbert told him, clear amusement in his voice.

They did another lap of the Quidditch Pitch, then flew low over the forest so Harry could touch the tree tops with his fingertips if he leaned down enough. Norbert sped them over to the lake, where he promptly amused himself by tipping upside down so Harry could barely hang on and flying upside down long enough to get his disgruntled charge wet.

Harry glared at the dragon, but there was no real heart in it as he slid carefully off Norbert's back and onto his stomach, eyes gleaming in triumph. He began to scratch the dragon's pale pink hide on his underside with a smile. He discovered that even dragons could get ticklish. Norbert squirmed all the while crying out.

_No! No! S-stop it! Please!_

Harry grinned savagely and stopped for only a moment, ready to reposition himself and start again, but the moment was enough. Norbert flipped himself right-way up and Harry nearly went headfirst into the water until gentle teeth caught his robes. With a flick he was soaring through the air and he landed on Norbert's back again.

_Wouldn't do to present you to Dumbledore sopping wet. _Norbert said with a dragon grin. _Now, we are even. _

They flew up to Dumbledore's tower window, bypassing the statue guarding the entrance as they did so. Norbert stilled outside of the window, hovering to allow Harry to climb through without danger. He did so, ignoring the old wizard sitting at his desk, surrounded by gadgets of every shape, size and description, to speak with Norbert once more.

"Thank-you Norbert," Harry whispered to the Ridgeback with an affectionate hug. "That meant more then you will ever know."

_Everyone needs someone they trust completely Harry. _Norbert commented with slow shrewdness. _I am only too happy to be that person._

"I'm only too happy for you to be that person…dragon," Harry concluded with a small grin. He ran a hand across Norbert's scaly back, before giving him a firm clap of finality, not sure who he was trying to call strength into, himself or Norbert.

_Good luck, Harry, never hesitate to call. _

"Same goes for me, Norbert, if you ever need help, call. Oh…and keep a close eye on your eggs."

Norbert gave another dragon-smile to show he shared the joke, then with a final good-bye, he turned and flew away into the night sky, with Harry watching dreamily from the window, his head resting on the stone windowsill until the dragon was out of sight.

"Well, now that little exchange is over Harry, m'boy, perhaps you would like to sit down," Dumbledore broke into his thoughts with a pleasant voice. Harry glared at him.

"Let's get one thing straight right away, I do not like you at the moment, and I sure as hell do not trust you. I think that entitles me to guarantee that I do not appreciate you calling me 'your boy' and you will stop it right now. I do not belong to you, nor anyone else in this castle, or in this world. I belong to myself," Harry finished, arms crossed across his chest and a stubborn set to his chin. He was just berating himself for going off on a spiel that made very little sense, when tea and biscuits appeared in front of the headmaster.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at Harry's outburst but didn't look fazed.

"Very well, but please sit." This time Harry did so, grudgingly. "Lemon drop? Tea? Biscuit?"

"No, I don't think manipulative tools are a good idea at this point in time and this particular conversation do you?" Harry replied, his voice amazingly calm. It even held a tinge of irony in it. Of course within his head he was screaming and throwing things, the same way he had after his fifth year. But what had that gotten him? Nothing! A frustrating amount of nothing.

Dumbledore didn't respond, except to put the lollies and tea away, after getting a cup himself.

"So, Harry," he began again, not quite as cheerful as he had been a few moments ago. "Ask away."

Harry lounged back in his chair, deliberately spinning his wand between his fingers and placing a scrupulous look on his face as he swung his fringe to the left side of his face with a small head movement.

"Which of the students at this school are Death Eaters?" he repeated his earlier question calmly.

"I am afraid that I could not give you a…" Dumbledore began, as his mouth twitched in amusement at Harry's antics.

"No! No more 'I don't know' answers, you always know. None of this 'you're better off not knowing' bullshit you've been feeding me for six years either, Dumbledore, I want the truth. I know Malfoy is, and I am also aware he is a double agent. Crabbe and Goyle's untimely deaths tell me they were either Death Eaters, or their fathers' ways of showing undying allegiance. Blaise Zabini is, and he is pure Death Eater material," Harry added with a snort of contempt.

"I admit Mr Zabini, it seems, has turned to the dark side. I am trying to sway him but…he seems unwilling to listen."

"I believe what you were dancing around then, was that he is unwilling to be manipulated," Harry spat. Dumbledore just shook his head sadly.

"I am sorry you feel that way, Harry," he sighed softly. "Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle's unfortunate deaths were, as you so cleverly guessed, sacrifices of allegiance to Voldemort's cause." 'I'm not Hermione, my intellect being flattered does nothing,' Harry thought. There was no need to say this out loud, it was clear in his face. "And Mr Malfoy is indeed a double agent for us, though how you found out I am quite puzzled."

As you should be. Harry felt a savage pride in himself at that moment that he had one up on his headmaster. He shot Dumbledore a look that said 'you won't find out any time soon' and continued his questioning.

"So other Death Eaters?" he pressed. Dumbledore sighed.

"I am afraid that Mr Greenworth, a Slytherin seventh year, has turned to the dark side. As has Miss Ren, of Ravenclaw and Miss Brown."

Harry's eyebrow shot up into his brow and his breath caught in his throat.

"Lavender?" He couldn't believe it, he didn't want to. It only seemed to confirm his fears that anyone could be one of _them_.

"I'm afraid so," Dumbledore sighed. "It seems her unnatural talent as a seer makes her an invaluable resource which we did not wield to her satisfaction."

"B…but…" Harry was stumped, his mind whirling. How did Voldemort have this uncanny knack for knowing everyone's weakness? Why did so many people crave the sort of attention and power that Harry had been attempting to leave behind for six years?

"As well as Mr Brate," Dumbledore continued gravely.

At that the lump in Harry's throat threatened to choke him unmercifully. Alex Brate? Surely not. The boy had been Harry's boyfriend for a time earlier in the year. He was the kindest, most generous person Harry had ever met. He could have sworn he didn't have a mean or malevolent bone in his body.

"Th…the Hufflepuff? Alex Brate?" he whispered, eyes wide in disbelief as he willed it not to be true. Dumbledore crushed this with a nod of his wizened old head.

"Another shock for you will be Mr Creevy then."

Harry felt ill, and dizzier then when he had stumbled into the hospital wing not so long ago. Colin? No. The boy idolised Harry. He and Ginny had almost started up their own fan club. Colin adored Harry. Colin adored the ground Harry walked on. Colin was smart. Colin had a future. Colin was a bloody Gryffindor!

"Although we are under the impression that the latter may not be working under his own free will."

Harry nodded numbly, that would make more sense. The thought of innocent little Colin, so ready and eager to help, always taking his photographs under _Imperius _was…Harry's thoughts trailed off as realisation hit.

"The photos. Voldemort's using Colin's photos for information around the castle," he whispered as horror dawned in his eyes and on his face.

Dumbledore looked surprised but gratified that Harry had worked it out by himself. Harry felt himself rile in anger. How dare this man presume he knew everything? That Harry knew nothing? He always believed himself to be above everyone else. Always thought he knew more. Which he always did, because he was a manipulative old coot.

"So surprised that I worked it out?" Harry snarled bitingly. Unfortunately it was no good, the man refused to get angry.

"Not at all," Dumbledore replied mildly. "Just proud. Your intellect really is staggering when you put your mind to the task, Harry."

Harry pulled off a very good impersonation of a Snape-withering-sneer.

"Oh shut-up," he growled, shocked at his own gall. "I'm not stupid, and am I not naïve as much as people want to make me out as the innocent-poor-young-Harry-Potter. I am aware of your manipulative tactics so just shut-it."

Dumbledore just folded his hands in his lap and watched Harry, he seemed to be scrutinizing him through, Harry was proud to see, bewildered eyes.

"Why are you so desperate for me to kill Voldemort?" Harry hissed, green eyes blazing with withheld fury and pain. He could feel his calm slipping through his fingers even as he spoke, but had to admit he was more then pleased with the reaction.

Dumbledore jerked in his chair, his mouth hung ever so slightly open and he immediately began to stroke his beard in a nervous gesture Harry had seen only once before.

"Harry, I never…" the old headmaster cleared his throat and tried again. "I am not desperate for you to defeat Voldemort, Harry. It will be a joyous day when he is gone, but I am neither ready nor willing to allow you to confront him in your current state. The only reason I push you to train harder, and often in nastier circumstances then you would appreciate, is because of the prophecy."

"I'm sick and tired of the damn prophecy!" Harry growled looking more then irate. His eyes flashed in a way that could only mean danger. Hostility and wildness built up the passion behind his words. "I don't give a damn if I'm supposed to be the saviour of the whole world! The prophecy was made by a bloody coot who couldn't predict the weather! In fact, I don't even know if it's real or not. Could just be another one of your crazy schemes to get me to trust you, to do what you want, to follow blindly.

"I was starting to get out of hand so you made up this ridiculous prophecy to make me think it was my destiny to kill or be killed by Voldemort, when really you two are in cahoots, playing with me until I get so dangerous that I must be killed. And I know who will be my end. Not Lord effing Voldemort. It will be at your hand that I will die, Dumbledore, if I continue to follow you like you hung the moon. I'm not willing to let that happen!"

Harry had jumped to his feet at some point during his spiel and had whipped out his wand, pointing it with a shaking hand at his headmaster. His eyes were slits, his voice trembling with fury and terror. He didn't want to believe it, but he did. He believed that Dumbledore could be using him as amusement, only to dispose of him in the end. After all, Dumbledore spent his life manipulating people.

"I'm not willing to let that happen," he repeated softly, his chest heaving and his mouth dry. Dumbledore looked at him pityingly. Harry flinched. He hated pity. There was nothing worse then pity, unless it was manipulation.

"Harry, I can't imagine what horrors Voldemort must have shown you to get you to feel this way, but I can assure you my motives are nothing but honest. I care for you Harry, as I would a son. I wish nothing but goodness into your life, the simple fact is the sooner Voldemort is gone, the sooner you are able to live as a normal teenager." Dumbledore gave a half-smile at this. "Well maybe not completely normal, but better then you are now. My concern is purely for you, Harry. I do not wish to see you get hurt, and I would certainly never lift my hand to you."

"No, just your wand," Harry agreed, shocking himself with the amount of bitterness the words held.

"Harry, I would _never_ hurt you," Dumbledore said, his voice sounding so distressed at the thought that Harry almost fell for the act. The sneer fell from his expression as he battled with himself before growling in the back of his throat and the sneer took place again.

"Prove it," he snapped. He knew this was impossible.

"Would you care to question me under the effects of Vertiserum?" Dumbledore asked softly. The scorn never even flickered.

"Vertiserum can be broken, and as one of the most powerful wizards of our time I dare say you are well able to do such a thing," his student replied, suspicion in his face and nervous movements.

"Indeed," sighed Dumbledore. "I wouldn't, however it seems my attempts to gain your trust have been ill-guided."

"Forget it," Harry sighed, feeling three times his age and weary to the bone. "I can't play these games any more. I just…need to get away…"

"NO!" Dumbledore's voice was sudden and cutting. He settled on a more reasonable tone. "I answered your questions," here Harry snorted in ridicule. "Now you shall answer mine."

"I shall, shall I?" Harry demanded, getting even more riled up.

"Yes," Dumbledore replied simply. Harry felt himself sitting, calming slightly as if under a spell, giving one last glare at the old man before settling into the seat, crossing his arms across his chest but keeping his wand firmly in grip.

"Maybe," he said, his voice cold but even.

Dumbledore sighed.

"It pains me, Harry, that you believe you cannot trust me. I have tried to answer your questions, but trust isn't something that can be proven until you have either fallen into a trap or lost it completely. It is something we give blindly, which can either burn us, or help us become better people. I wish for you to tell me of your dream."

Harry was startled and rattled by the sudden change of topic. He recuperated hurriedly.

"I told you, this was no dream. It was a vision."

"As you like," the headmaster replied calmly. "Please, I am interested."

"I bet you are," Harry muttered darkly under his breath before clearing his throat and reciting the vision from beginning to end, sparing no details, especially not the betrayal and fury he had felt when he realised what Dumbledore was talking about. "Then I believed I was transported back to you, where you promptly denied it, which told me it had been a vision, rather then something that had happened at that point in time." Harry's face fell into another disparaging look. "Of course for all I know you were lying."

He raised his eyes from where he had been unaware they had been watching his fingers as they intertwined. He glared for a moment, to show he had not lost his nerve, though his slightly trembling figure and the angst in his eyes said otherwise. Harry was thoroughly shocked when Dumbledore looked up himself, his eyes filled with tears as his voice croaked. He sounded so…so…_old_.

"Harry. I…Tom. I'm sorry," he sighed finally, wiping a tear off of his cheek. "I'm sorry that you have experienced this. I am sorry for what Tom has been doing to you. I'm sorry that you have never had a real chance to be a normal child."

"A normal child?" Harry's voice was incredulous. "It has gone way past me ever being a _normal_ child, Dumbledore. I wasn't a normal child before I came to Hogwarts. I was a slave. Once I arrived at Hogwarts I jumped from slave to saviour of the bloody wizarding world! I not only never got to be a normal child, I never got to be a child, period."

Dumbledore's eyes were sad, with almost a fire of pain in them.

"I know Harry. I wish you had had that opportunity. I am sorry that Tom took that from you."

At this Harry jerked roughly, his eyes showing fury at the blatant passing off of blame onto Voldemort. Indeed, he did saddle a lot of blame, he had taken away so many people Harry cared about, but he was not the only one. The wizarding community, for treating him like a hero, telling him he had to save them. Trelawney, for making the stupid prophesy, and…

"Dumbledore, Voldemort is not the only person who takes blame for my lack of childhood. You. You take some of that responsibility. You, with all of your lies and manipulations…you, you who spend so much time patronising me, then when I do something that you do, take down one of Voldemort's pawns, you pat me on the head, give me a lollipop and tell me to go away. That was worse then taking away my childhood, you're taking away my _life_!"

Harry hadn't realised he was standing, or yelling for that matter, until Dumbledore rose with him.

"Please try and be calm, Harry. I must take my part of the responsibility, I will acknowledge that. I apologise, and I am aware that my trying to protect you has hurt you deeply in the past…" Neither of them needed to say the name to realise who he was talking about. Sirius. Harry snorted in contempt. "But it was never intentional, unlike what Tom has been doing. Please try and understand."

"This conversation is getting us nowhere," Harry spat. "Just tell me how you can prove my vision wasn't really a vision."

Dumbledore appeared to be thinking carefully.

"Well, for one there is no such thing as a shield that can keep specific people in and out."

"Yes, may I mention again that you are one of the most powerful wizards of the time? I'm sure you could come up with _something_," Harry exaggerated sarcastically.

"Where did you say the vision was?" Dumbledore inquired, apparently not put off by Harry's derisive answer.

"I didn't. All I could tell was that it was a large open space."

"Ah…well in that case, it is more then likely the vision was created simply to plant a seed of doubt in your mind, Harry. Why on earth would we have the final battle out in the open? I would imagine that the Light side would want to be close to Hogwarts so they had a place to retreat to would they not?"

Harry thought about this for a moment, his own beliefs becoming muddled and dubious in his mind. It made sense that the Light side would have somewhere to fall back to.

"And another thing, Harry, why would I let you live this long? I can honestly say your power far surpasses that of any ordinary full-grown wizard Harry. At the moment, you need only harness your power and I believe you could be the most powerful wizard of out time. And yes, I do include myself and Tom in that count."

Now Harry's doubts were fading away. What had he been thinking? The whole school was in on some sick joke to lure him to his death? The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous the beliefs he had been so sure about seemed.

"I s'pose," he muttered, not willing to admit that he had been wrong.

"I understand that the past few months have been hard on you, Harry. Harder then many. You have lost Sirius, and then your anger at Tom for what he did to Remus has never been completely expelled from your system has it?"

As if in answer, Harry's hands clenched into fists, colour rose into his cheeks as he felt a surge of deadly murder flash through his system and into his eyes.

"No one, _no one_, deserves what Remus got," he snarled, his voice deep and hoarse with unshed tears. "I will give Voldemort every ounce of pain he gave Remus, before he dies. Hell, he can have some of my pain too."

It had been five months since Remus Lupin had been snatched from outside Grimmald Place. Four months since Voldemort had locked him into a cell with two renown werewolves, and eight children. Remus had not been given wolfsbane, the other two had. Remus had transformed.

The children had not stood a chance, locked in the confines of such a small room. Remus had attacked, brutally. He had killed five of the children, the boys. He had bitten the three girls, he had even attempted to rape one, unsuccessfully. The other two werewolves had fought him off once what they had wanted was done, allowing the three girls to be taken away and dumped back with their families, with an Obliviation on all of them for good measure.

The same werewolves had taken wolfsbane potion and gone to the girls' houses the next full moon. They had watched the girls transform and attack their families, including one of girls' newborn brother. None survived.

The werewolves had placed their memories of these events into a pensieve, which they then forced Remus to look at, over and over again. Voldemort forced the horrifying images into Remus' dreams.

Harry had seen them too. He had been locked in the Infirmary for eight days straight, screaming, weeping, tearing at himself, his clothes, the bed, until Dumbledore regretfully petrified him so he couldn't move. However, the vision continued to replay in his head, cut with images of Remus slowly getting weaker, hating himself more and more.

Until it had happened.

Harry had seen it.

Remus had felt it coming on.

He had let it.

He found his release.

He found insanity.

Harry hadn't had one night where he had slept without nightmares since then, over and over again it replayed in his mind. Seeing Remus' eyes as he finally lost his mind completely. As he made a decision to give up on any hope he had of the Order rescuing him. The next full moon, he had attacked himself. He was found by Death Eaters the next day, dead.

What angered Harry more then anything else, was that people blamed it on Remus being a werewolf. Harry blamed Voldemort. Remus had done what he had done because Voldemort had driven him to the edge. He had forced the gentle werewolf to do something he had spent his whole life avoiding. Harming another living thing, and forcing upon them the burden had had been forced to endure most of his life. Harry blamed Voldemort for the loss of his friend, and companion.

And Harry was hell bent on revenge.

"Is that explanation satisfactory?" Dumbledore asked finally, cutting into Harry's remembrance, his voice holding no malice or annoyance, just simple curiosity.

"For now," Harry replied, his voice softening a bit, aware of the tears on his cheeks. "What else did you want to ask?"

He felt dulled now, tired. He didn't care, really. So many people he had cared for had been snatched away from him that he was beyond caring about trivial things, he was almost beyond living. He rubbed the wetness resting on his upper lip away with a slow slap to his face.

"Well, I am most interested to find out where you acquired your new language," Dumbledore replied, a small twinkle returning to his blue eyes.

"The dragons gave it to me," Harry shrugged, his voice heavy and laced with the torment he still felt every time he thought of Remus.

"Of course," now the headmaster's eyes were definitely sparkling. "Now, would you care to bestow upon me the privilege of why they did that?"

Harry let out a weak chuckle at this. He ran quickly through what had happened in the forest, leaving out large chunks of his speech, believing that Dumbledore probably already knew this information, and was merely humouring Harry into believing he controlled what people knew. The slight smile that played on the headmaster's lips seemed to indicate as much.

"Amazing. Would you care to show me this healing power?" Dumbledore asked once Harry had finished his tale. The boy looked confused.

"Er…sir? You aren't hurt are you?" His respect returning was not lost on either of them as Dumbledore bestowed a gentle smile upon him.

"As a matter of fact Harry…" He raised his wand and a flash of purple light struck him fairly on the shoulder. A gaping wound split open, bleeding profusely.

Harry nearly fainted in shock. A wound like that could kill someone from blood loss alone in minutes. Without a second thought he scrambled to his feet and bolted around the desk, pressing his hands on top of the wound and concentrating.

Having never used this sort of magic before, he wasn't truly sure of how to use it. He searched for it. He could feel his magic, the magic he used everyday, but was aware of how different it felt to the magic he had used on Norbert. He searched, frustrated and scared that he would not find it in time. He was aware of Dumbledore's palling face, and the fact that he had passed out.

"Idiot!" he suddenly growled at his headmaster, fighting back tears. Why hadn't the old fool waited until Harry had learned how to use his magic before harming himself? He didn't know if Dumbledore could heal himself, he had never seen him do it. The man obviously couldn't do it while he was unconscious. What if Harry was too late? What if…

"FAWKES!" Harry bellowed, racing to Dumbledore's office door and attempting to open it as he looked at his headmaster's death-white face.

There was blood all over the floor and desk as he realised the futility of trying to open the door. It had clearly been locked and warded very complexly.

"Damnit!" Harry almost screamed as he ran back to his headmaster's side, placing his hands on the wound again, willing something to happen, _anything_. "God damnit Dumbledore," he whispered, his voice shaking and hoarse. "HEAL! Don't you dare leave me you bastard!"

Suddenly he felt it happen. It didn't happen in the same way as with Norbert, he supposed the fact they were a different species probably affected it somewhat. He felt a strange tug at a spot in his stomach which he affiliated with the equivalent of the spider's web-creating area, and white strings of magic seemed to flow from the tips of his fingers.

Automatically, Harry began to move his hands, ensuring the white stuff completely covered the wounded, and watched as it began to glow brightly, almost blindingly. He felt himself pulse with radiating magic, and was unaware of the door opening as he closed his eyes and poured more of himself into his work, making certain the wound was completely healed before taking a step backwards and found himself stumbling, aware of how drained he now was on top of his already weary and sapped state.

The door must have unlocked at one point, allowing someone to walk in because as Harry felt himself lose control of his shaking legs all together, strong hands caught him under his arms before he fell, helping him into a chair.

"Thanks," he murmured, leaning back and feeling sick.

"Eat!" A harsh voice commanded, shoving chocolate into his face. Harry took it delicately between his teeth, feeling his arms were too heavy to try and lift. He chewed and swallowed in a very undignified way, ignoring the snort from the person behind him. He was well aware of who it was now.

A/N: Thanks so much for my patient reviewers. I hope it improves from now on, and it definitely does in the sequal. Next part up next week!

Lots more of our fav. Potions professor, a bit of comfort, a heroic deed, two good friends and one angry Gryffindor, in **Chapter Four: Picture of you**


	4. Picture of you

**Chapter 4: Picture of you**

A/N: Warnings for language in this chapter.

Professor Snape sat down in the chair beside Harry and looked him up and down with a critical eye, summing up how ill he was before snorting again and turning back to Dumbledore, apparently satisfied that Harry wasn't too badly harmed.

"What is all this about, Albus? I was working on a rather important potion when I felt a strange amount of magic pulsing from your tower. Now, combine that with significant fury and loathing and I was a little worried," Snape growled smoothly.

"You could feel animosity?" Harry asked curiously.

"I'm sure if you'd yelled a little louder the Ministry could have felt it too," Snape retorted, rolling his eyes. "Not to mention your little stunt in the Great Hall yesterday."

Harry looked startled and glanced at his watch. It was twenty past one in the morning. He glanced up at Snape and raised an eyebrow.

"Do you often work on potions this late at night?"

"When it is a full moon, yes, because they don't just come when I call, Potter."

Harry's heart wrenched painfully. It was the full moon. He stood and walked over to the windowsill, staring out at the bright orb. The full moon. It was the full moon, now exactly two months since Remus had been driven by his insanity to his death. Harry bit his bottom lip. He was vaguely aware of Dumbledore explaining to Snape what the magic had been, but found his need to turn and rant at the man for scaring him had dissolved.

He was startled out of his musings when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Reflex action made him flick out his wand, having it aimed at the person within a split second of the hand landing.

"You may put that away, Harry," Snape said softly, but the words lacked their usual hostility. Harry did so, realising Dumbledore had left the room. As if he had read Harry's mind, Snape added, "Albus has gone to get a blood replenishing potion from my stores."

Harry nodded numbly. He didn't feel like talking, but the man's presence was reassuring. The hand moved to the nape of his neck where it squeezed gently.

"I tried, Harry," Snape told him quietly.

"I know," Harry sighed. "I do understand."

Snape had worked so hard to try and rescue Remus from his cell. He had done everything possible, going so far as to ask to be locked in with him at the full moon, supposedly to watch him suffer, so he could try to slip him some Wolfsbane potion. Voldemort wasn't willing to let his prize Death Eater place himself at risk though, even with two 'tame' werewolves to look after him. It had been futile.

Snape had even gone so far as to openly attempt to break Remus out of his cell when he discovered the werewolf was being driven insane by his deeds. He had been caught, and duly punished.

Twelve times with Cruciatus, and he was still sane, barely. He had only survived because a rescue party from the Order, surprisingly including Harry, had attacked Voldemort's hiding hole. They had lost one Order member, but slain eight Death Eaters. Voldemort had fled as soon as he saw Dumbledore.

It had been Harry who had helped him walk. He refused help from anyone else. The boy understood the pain of what he had just been subjected to. The boy had been under Cruciatus far more often then any normal person could handle. Not only the time in the graveyard, but also when Voldemort had attacked Privit Drive.

Not the house at number 4, he couldn't get near it, but Harry had gone out for a walk, and it was no wonder, cooped up there for a whole summer, year after year. So Harry had gone for a walk, and was ambushed by ten Death Eaters. They had made the mistake of 'playing' with him before taking him to Voldemort. Harry had survived nine goes of the Cruciatus curse before Dumbledore had arrived, the Order behind him, to rescue the boy.

That, on top of the pain he suffered at losing Sirius and Remus, made Snape wonder how he wasn't insane. However he was, maybe not healthy of body and soul, but he certainly was of sound mind. It was no wonder he got nightmares.

So Harry had helped Snape walk to the portkey, which took them back to Hogwart's front gates. Harry had been Snape's crutch in his lowest hour as he had stumbled up the long pathway to the Great Entrance, and as they had made their way carefully down into the dungeons.

Harry had tucked Snape into bed, like a first year.

Harry had kissed Snape good-night.

Feather light. A ghost of a kiss. The barest touch to his greasy temple.

So now they stood, Snape resting a comforting hand on Harry's neck as the boy recalled terrifying memories of old.

"I've had enough, you know," Harry said finally, so quietly Snape almost didn't hear him. "I've had enough of this war, of everyone expecting me to be something I'm not."

They stood in silence. Snape tried to form the words of denial but found he couldn't lie to Harry. It wasn't that he was, close, to the boy per say, but he and Harry had become acquainted with each other in the past few months. One might even say, they were friends. And so he chose his words of comfort carefully, but honestly.

"I don't." Harry turned away from the window, to face his professor. "I understand that you aren't a saviour of the wizarding world. You're just an arrogant, ignorant, idiotic little boy who takes pleasure in breaking the rules."

Harry smiled ever so slightly, but it was enough for Snape to know he'd done his job. Because, although the words had been cutting, his tone had not.

Snape had been watching the boy, since Remus' death. He had grown thinner, eaten less, slept less, far, far, less. He had become as weedy and sickly-looking as that first day of Hogwarts when he had been sorted into Gryffindor. He had become, twitchy, was the only word to describe it. He would never be found without his wand. Even at night, according to his dorm mates, he slept with it under his pillow, often with his hand clutched around it. He had started wearing glamour spells, which tired him out even further, but Snape could always see past it, to what Harry really felt like.

One thing that stood out more then anything was Harry's restlessness. He wanted to move, to seek vengeance for the wrongs done to him. Killing two Death Eaters single-handedly while they had rescued Snape had not quenched his appetite for revenge. He took it out on younger children that got in his way in the corridors, barking at them in a good impression of Snape himself, and on the Quidditch pitch, where he performed dangerous moves that made even Snape watch in tense horror as he risked life and limb to catch that ridiculous golden ball.

Two weeks ago Draco Malfoy had hit Harry with a hex. It was a minor enough one, simply supposed to make the person it struck relive their last dream, with what was the equivalent of a projection of the dream above their head while they were forced to stand still and endure it.

No one could have truly foreseen how terrible that particular dream had been. The last dr…nightmare Harry had had, had been his memories of what had happened to Remus. Every emotion and ache that that dream had given him sped back to him as he writhed and screamed, while four Slytherins watched on in horror. It had been Harry's nightmare, reliving the night he had been attacked by the Death Eater's, and then as he saw Remus being tortured.

They had been taken to Dumbledore, given a stern telling off, and had fifty house points deducted, from each of them, as well as a weeks worth of detentions with Filch. Thinking about who it was, and the horrors he had experienced, even Snape couldn't argue that the punishment was fitting to their stupidity. In fact, he believed it should have been harsher. Not that he would ever admit that. He did understand that Malfoy had probably been hoping to see Harry reliving a lustful fantasy, and embarrassing himself in many other ways because of it, but honestly, did no one use their brains around this castle?

Now Harry had taken to exhausting himself even more by setting up heavy shields around himself everywhere he went, even around his bed at night. Snape could see at the moment how strong the shields were, pulsating and draining Harry of what little energy he still had.

"Drop your shields, Harry," he suggested. "You need to preserve your strength."

He hadn't expected the reaction he got, having not discovered what Harry's vision had been of yet. The boy had wrenched from his grasp, flicked out his wand once more and backed away, towards the door. Snape was impressed despite himself. Harry was clever enough to give himself an escape route. Harry's eyes flickered their distrust.

"Why should I? Enjoying the safety of the headmaster's office, Snape? Convince poor, weak Harry to drop his shields then do away with him where no one can see you, and surely they would understand if the half-crazed boy just happened to slip from the window. Is that it?"

At the moment, Snape wasn't convinced Harry wasn't losing his mind, and it troubled him deeply.

"Harry, please," he commanded quietly. "Put your wand away. There is a thin line between caution and paranoia."

"Well I'm delighted to tell you I'm firmly planted on the paranoia side when it comes to my safety, thanks very much."

Snape frowned, trying to understand Harry's behaviour in his mind. Certainly, they did not act like friends in public. That would not do, despite the fact that Snape was no longer in Voldemort's service, there were still ways and means that his previous work as a Death Eater could be used against him, and against Harry if anyone realised they were more then bastard teacher to arrogant student to each other.

"Harry I never intend on hurting you, indeed I have had plenty of opportunities to do so in the past don't you agree?"

"Hmm."

There was Potter with his usual eloquence.

"Well? Weeks of detentions, Occlumency lessons, Order meetings when we had to arrive early to discuss our strategies, need I go on?" Snape pressed.

"Yes, but all that time _you_ were under the control of Dumbledore _and _Voldemort. It wouldn't do to displease either now would it? Kill me and Dumbledore's wrath would certainly be upon you, even if Voldemort's wasn't. And if you killed me, or hurt me, and fell out of Dumbledore's favour, then Voldemort would lose a valuable spy. Need I go on?" Harry mimicked Snape's words sarcastically.

Damn, the boy had thought it through.

"Do you truly believe that the Dark Lord would be unable to get another spy into Hogwarts and the Order should I have fulfilled a task he has set his mind to for many years without success? Use that not-completely-dead brain of yours, Potter!"

"So you're reverting to insults again, Snape? Well done, brilliantly diplomatic way to get someone's trust. I do _truly _believe that Voldemort would be unable to get another spy in the rather unique position you are in of being completely trusted by Dumbledore."

"You know, when you put your mind to it, Potter, you actually surpass that half-wit façade you wear."

"Let's see…hmm…no. Nope, your twisted compliments aren't going to help either." Harry had doubled his shields and Snape swore inwardly, the boy was about to pass out.

"Just drop the shields! Look, here take it!" Snape threw his wand at Harry's feet, feeling incredibly vulnerable. Harry hurriedly kicked it into a far corner, out of Snape's reach, then walked over to place his foot lightly upon it.

"What, you think I'd forget wandless magic?" sneered Harry, not lowering his shields or his wand.

"You should know it is impossible to do an unforgivable without a wand," Snape told him quietly. He felt like he was trying to calm a rearing horse. "Plus, this," he raised his robe and revealed something Harry was well aware he hated showing anyone. The Dark Mark, "prevents us from doing wandless magic." He dropped his robe arm again. "I guess Voldemort is just as paranoid as you are."

Finally, where Snape had talked him around or his magic had finally diminished, Harry dropped his shields with a sigh. Snape guessed, in relief, that it was the first as he still managed to keep a little glamour on as he stumbled to a seat. But even that couldn't keep the hard, exhausted look from his eyes. The look that so often reminded Snape how lucky they were to have Harry on the Light side. Because sometimes when Harry spoke of revenge and Snape saw him fingering his wand, Snape was truly fearful. He had seen Voldemort in a rage, but the man was half-crazy, Snape's fear was usually minor enough.

It seemed that Harry's constant abuse and emotional turmoil had made him into more of a Slytherin then Gryffindor. He still had the damn Gryffindor pride, he would always put others before himself, and he had a reckless courage that would make him go in head-first, but he showed cunning, manipulative behaviour, and a snake-like thirst for pain.

Harry's eyes never lied, he just couldn't keep his emotions out of them. And compared to the murder that lay burning in the boy's eyes, Voldemort was cat-poo. Snape would rather endure Cruciatus twenty-times over, then have to face Harry on a battlefield when he was seeking revenge.

"I feel so tired, Severus," Harry whispered finally, rubbing his face with his hands. He was using Snape's first name again. That meant he trusted him. "I feel so…so…_old_."

Indeed, he looked it. The bags under his eyes, eyes that were so dull that they were almost devoid of life, were large dark rings. He was slumped over in a kind of hunchback position and his face showed utter despair and hopelessness that shouldn't be found in one so young. Then again, one that young certainly shouldn't have ever seen the horrors that lay in Harry's past.

"You're allowed to let it out, you know," Snape said, coming over to perch on the desk so he could see Harry's face better. The boy responded with a bark of hoarse, humourless laughter.

"That'd look great wouldn't it? Harry Potter the boy-who-has-to-defeat-Voldemort, can't even handle a little publicity without freaking, can't even see one death! How will he ever have the guts to destroy Voldemort?"

Snape moved so he was inches from Harry's face as he reached out with his hands to grab his shoulders.

"You can't care about what others think of you, Harry. If you do then your life will become unbearable. As it is you are barely just getting by, can't you see that?"

Snape's tone had turned to desperation. He had despised the boy for so long, holding onto grudges against the Marauders was the only link he had with his past before he made his biggest mistake. But once he had seen how Harry had fought off the pain of Sirius' death, of the Death Eater's attacks, Snape knew this boy was no more his father then Dumbledore.

James wouldn't have been calm, despite the nightmares and visions that plagued his daytime. James would have sought revenge straight away.

Harry stayed calm, he threw his thirst for revenge into training. He understood he needed to be fully prepared to win this fight, and he was willing to work at it.

Snape had watched the young man train and fight. He had bested every student who dared challenge him in duels, and could win two in three bouts against Professor Flitwick.

Also, unlike many wizards or witches, Harry did not avoid the physical side of training, believing it to be just as important as the magic side. In his own words it would be foolish not to be physically adept. "What if my wand broke, or a curse stopped it functioning? What if my magic supplies were sapped? I would be left helpless. If I can fight, if I can run, then I have a chance to live." Snape had been shocked at the wise words.

And so any anger, any hate he may have had that he had been taking out on Harry had left him. He didn't want to see Harry self-destruct, not once he'd been through so much already. He had to finish what he'd started. He had to see it through.

Harry had turned his head away from his Professor and refused to meet his eyes as Snape searched his face. He finally released his student's shoulders and stepped back. He saw the truth there.

"You've already given up haven't you?"

Harry just sighed and stood, stumbling again before regaining his balance and returning to the window. He stared out, longing in his eyes.

"Sometimes I just want to grab my broomstick and jump out of the window and fly away forever. I just want to go where I wanna go. I don't want to see death, I don't want to face Voldemort. Hell, sometimes I wish I'd never even heard of magic. It'd make my life a lot easier. I wouldn't be able to defend myself. Voldemort would kill me, woopdidoo, the wizarding world would have to find itself a new hero," Harry's words were heavy with the realisation and understanding of just how arduous his burden was and his bitterness of it being so.

His Professor just stood there for a moment, in careful silence. He appeared to be about to say something when the door re-opened and Dumbledore came in, a beam on his face.

"Well, well, Harry m'boy," Harry felt a trickle of cold down his spine.

"I may have believed you about the vision, _headmaster_," he snapped sarcastically. "But I am still not 'your boy'."

Snape looked impressed in spite of himself. 'The boy has a bite'.

"Very well, Harry." Dumbledore inclined his head without so much as blinking at the harsh words. "I am most impressed at your healing skills, they go far beyond the reaches of an ordinary witch or wizard…"

"No shit, that would be because they are Acromantula skills," Harry spat.

"Yes, as I was saying, most impressive. Far surpasses any healing skills I have ever had the pleasure of having had performed on me before." Dumbledore didn't even pause after Harry's words. "I am surprised it took you so little time to grasp the powers."

"Well when someone is practically dying you do tend to pick up on the necessities fast," Harry replied, voice laced in distain that gave Snape a run for his money.

Dumbledore chuckled, riling Harry's anger.

"I performed a simple hex, Harry. It is made to heal itself before too much blood is lost. Quite commonly used in wizarding plays for a more realistic effect, I believe."

Harry stared at the headmaster for a moment, mouth hanging half-open in outrage and shock.

"Y-you…"

His eyes fell on the desk a floor still coated in blood.

"You made me think that you were possibly dying so I could grasp my magic faster?" Dumbledore nodded, his eyes amused. "Oh…well of course. Why does it matter if I lose someone else I care about in my life? Why would it matter that one more person who I consider a friend could have possibly died whilst I watched? Obviously it doesn't matter. There'll be plenty more of that before the war is over."

Harry realised that he had told Dumbledore he was his friend, contradicting his earlier statements but didn't care, too upset over this revelation.

"Well, screw you. Fucking screw you."

With that, Harry turned and stormed over to the door, slamming it behind him with all the force he could muster. Before the headmaster could come after him, Harry took to his heels and bolted as fast as he could from Dumbledore's rooms and into the empty corridors. He ran, chest heaving and breathing harsh, still not well from the attack the previous night.

He ran until he reached the door at the bottom of the Astronomy Tower and wrenched it open, running to the top and all the way to the very edge of the platform before collapsing in a heap of sobs, the previous nights events finally hitting him, hard.

The owls swooped silently over the Quidditch Pitch in the distance. Somewhere in the Forbidden Forest the Acromantula slept soundly in their homes, safe in the knowledge that the dragons had gone and would not return. Norbert circled above his egg once more to check for dangers, and to listen for a call if he was needed before settling down on top of his child. And Harry Potter curled up in a ball, arms wrapped around his legs and cried himself to sleep.

Next Week: Harry and Malfoy are involved in a scuffle. What's Snape got to say about it? And a potion's experiment goes wrong…leaving Harry with some painful memories. Read about it in: Voices of the dead

A/N: I know Harry seems to be rather pathetic at the moment, but he's scared and confused, and isn't sure who to trust, which leaves him rather vulnerable. Thanks to all my reviewers who boosted my ego significantly! Special appreciation to the-dreamer4 for her/his fantastic review, the kind that every writer wants! And just to clarify, this is Harry's seventh year, and the events taking place occurred in his sixth.


	5. Voices of the Dead

**Chapter Five: Voices of the Dead**

WARNING: Some bad language in this chapter, don't like, please don't read.

Harry felt eyes watching him as he sat down in the Great Hall for breakfast. He ignored them. He expected them to pester him for a while now, after his vision and reaction the previous day. He was ready for it, after a night, or at least a few hours, of nightmares about far worse things then a few harsh comments.

Hermione and Ron sat down silently on either side of him, effectively isolating him from the rest of the Gryffindors, which Harry acknowledged with a grateful nod. They didn't question him, they just showed their relief that he was safe and feeling okay by a quick pat on the back and a hug.

"What have we got first?" Harry asked, grateful not to have to explain his behaviour at that minute, though he was sure some sort of interrogation would occur later.

"Honestly, Harry," Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation. "We've been here for _months_ already and you haven't memorised your timetable? _I_ have arithmacy, _you_ have double potions."

Harry sighed and rested his head on his hand, picking unenthusiastically at his food.

"Great, double Snape, perfect way for the morning to start," Ron muttered glumly. He still managed to get down a healthy proportion of everything at the table.

Harry swallowed down only one thing in the whole of breakfast, which was the remark "Snape's not bad once you get to know him." It would have thrown the whole table into an uproar.

He was aware of eyes upon him from the long table that sat at the front of the hall. He knew whose eyes they were, and didn't think they warrant a glance in that direction. It was Dumbledore and Snape. Well, Snape may have warranted a glance, as Harry hadn't even said good-bye, but Dumbledore didn't. And Harry wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of thinking Harry was looking at him.

"C'mon mate, let's go. We don't wanna be late. Snape'll have our heads," Ron urged as he got to his feat, grabbing Harry's arm. In a reflex action, fuelled by his 'vision' the previous day, Harry wrenched his arm away, earning him strange looks from the Gryffindors. Ron looked hurt.

"Sorry, mate, sore spot," Harry muttered quickly. Ron looked a bit suspicious but nodded.

"I'll see you at lunch!" Hermione called as they left. Harry gave her a wave. He remembered they had Divination after Potions. Great!

He and Ron walked down to the dungeons side-by-side, but neither of them missed the subtle way Harry stood just a little out of reach. What should have been an uneventful walk left both Ron and a particular Gryffindor in a state of shock.

As they rounded the corner to begin the decent to the dungeons, a familiar smile and head of blonde hair appeared.

"Harry! Hey Harry!" The enthusiasm in that voice could never be mistaken. Ron let out a soft groan. Colin's camera flicked up and the flash went off, blinding both boys. Harry leapt back, fear in his eyes as he whipped out his wand.

"_Expelliarmus!" _he bellowed, surprising Ron and terrifying Colin as the camera went flying from his hands and smashed against the stone wall behind him. For a moment, no one moved, only the sound of Harry's panting broke the tense silence. Then, his eyes never shifting from Harry's wand, Colin scooped up the pieces of his precious camera, tears rolling down his cheeks, and bolted from their sight.

Slowly, Harry lowered his wand, staring at the few pieces of glass that Colin had not collected, trying, and failing, to slow down his racing heart.

"Geez, I know you don't like camera's Harry, but that was a bit harsh," Ron commented finally. Harry scowled at his friend and turned to go down the stairs. Ron, wisely, stayed quiet for the rest of the walk. He would talk to Hermione, and they could confront Harry later.

They arrived at the potion's dungeon on time, but unfortunately they had company.

A group of snickering Slytherin's, including Draco Malfoy, stood close by. Draco stepped forward.

"Oooh, Potter. I think I'm feeling faint. Catch me!" He pretended to faint into Pansy Parkinson's arms. "Oooh, no Dumbledore! Stop it! Stop! You betrayed me!" The Slytherin's continued to laugh as Draco re-enacted Harry's vision. Harry, already upset from the run in with Colin, was in no mood to be mocked. It didn't help that he could see Lavender walking their way.

"Shut-up Malfoy," he snarled, stepped forward to use his height while Malfoy was in Pansy's arms. It didn't last long as Draco straightened up, smoothing his robes as he did.

"What's the matter Potter? Did the headmaster forget to bring you breakfast in bed?" sneered Draco, a disdainful expression marring his otherwise handsome face.

"That's never been a problem for you, has it Malfoy? Although I suppose you give Dumbledore his due…_payment_." There was enough of a gap between the words, and sarcasm on the word payment, to make it clear that Harry wasn't talking about any kind of money.

Two faint blushes appeared in Draco's fine-boned cheeks.

"H…how…dare you?" he stammered, fury etched deep in every word.

"How dare I what? Insinuate that you're fucking Dumbledore? Or that you're a poof?"

The silence stretched as the Slytherin's and Gryffindor's watched with bated breath. They waited for Draco to pull his wand, to start a duel that Harry would inevitably win.

"You've got a lot of nerve for someone who just watched his friend, traitorous half-breed piece of filth that he was, get tortured to insanity," Draco sneered, his voice low and deadly. Harry froze, every fibre him his body told him to kill Draco right then and there. His hand went directly to his pocket and flicked his wand out, and his left arm had Draco pinned to the wall before he knew what was happening.

"Potter! Malfoy!" Snape's harsh voice broke through Harry's anger fogged mind. "Potter, get off him!' Harry backed away regretfully, and pocketed his wand. "Let's see," Snape began silkily. "I think twenty points from Gryffindor for insulting a teacher, Potter. And another twenty for attacking another student. And a detention with me tonight." Harry was trembling with fury but restrained the words he wanted to say to Snape, not wanting to lose any more points. "And Mr Malfoy, obviously your last punishment was not substantial. Seventy points from Slytherin, and a weeks worth of detentions with Mr Filch."

"B…what?" Draco looked astonished and furious. The Gryffindor's looked like all of their dreams had come true at once.

"You did not learn you punishment the first time, thus your second punishment will be worse do you not agree?" Snape asked, his voice held deadly undercurrents. Draco nodded mutely but didn't look happy.

Snape waited as the rest of the class trooped into the room before following. Harry was trailing a little behind, not that Snape could blame him. He leaned down so he could hiss something that would look malevolent in his ear.

"Well done Potter, I didn't even know you knew what the word 'insinuate' meant."

Harry kept the smile off his face and nodded with what he hoped was a nervous expression.

"What was that Malfoy said?" Ron asked as soon as Harry sat down. "What was that about?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Harry growled through gritted teeth.

"But he said you saw a half-breed going insane. What is he talking about, Harry?" Ron demanded, reaching out to grasp Harry by the upper-arm. "And what the heck was that with Colin?"

"Leave it!" Harry snarled.

"I will not, what did he mean?"

"Bugger off, Ron!" Harry was unaware that his voice had risen to a yell as he had jumped to his feet. Grabbing his books he turned and stormed halfway across the room before dropping his stuff and returning for his cauldron, shooting Ron a cold glare as he did so.

It wasn't Ron's fault, not really. After all, the ministry had told the world Remus Lupin had died peacefully in his sleep. They didn't want word spreading of what had happened. They had hushed up the families, and even Dumbledore had told Harry it would be better not to tell others what he had seen. Harry had refused to burden Ron or Hermione with what he had had to witness, and bore his secret with a heavy heart.

He sat down and propped his head up on his hands with a dull look in his normally bright green eyes.

"If Mr Potter has completely finished his theatrics," Snape drawled lazily from the front of the room. He raised a slim eyebrow as he looked in Harry's direction.

"Quite," Harry agreed with an acerbic tone.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape snapped, before waving his wand. "The instructions to make a 'Good Dream Night' are on the board. Take notes on its dangers and warnings before you begin. I will be checking this."

Harry sighed but opened his Potion's book and flicked to the page labelled 'Good Dream Night'. It had a four-star difficulty rating out of five. Great!

_The Good Dream Night potion is a valuable asset to anyone with recurring nightmares. It allows the drinker a full night of pleasant dreams. The potion should be a deep maroon by completion and is difficult to make due to the need for precise timing and exact proportions. If you take too much of Good Dream Night, the maximum dose is one small vial, you will be enveloped in the best dreams for the rest of your life, until you die of starvation or thirst. If you drink Good Dream Night too often, the recommended maximum is once a fortnight, you will find yourself living in a state half-between the real world and a dream world, finding it difficult to grasp what is reality and what is not. _

Harry snorted, he took his eyes off the page he had been reading intently. Trust a potion that could finally get rid of his nightmares to have conditions about how often he could take it.

He headed to the now unlocked cupboard and took out the ingredients needed. This potions could be useful, he decided he wouldn't stuff up, and copied the instructions down from the board, triple checking them before he set about making the potion.

He was chopping his spider's legs carefully as he kept an attentive eye when he heard it. The shuddering of the ground, very subtle all the way up in the castle. The faint wail. It was the Acromantula! They sounded like they were under attack again.

Harry frowned and tried to look out of the window with a subtle glance. It wasn't successful. Dean Thomas sat directly in his view. He wondered if Snape would kill him if he dared ask to leave class. The Acromantula sounded young and…alone. Was it possible for an Acromantula to be cornered all alone? Harry feared that it was.

Another strange noise, this time from much closer, caught his attention. Neville's cauldron was hissing and shooting red sparks out of it.

"Everyone get out of the way!" Snape shouted impatiently over the scared screams of several girls. "Move Longbottom!" Neville seemed rooted to the spot, staring at the cauldron with a look of terror on his pale face. "Longbottom!" Snape roared.

Harry could see the cauldron was about to explode, and whatever concoction it held, it was not about to give anyone pleasant dreams.

"Neville!" he bellowed. His Quidditch training came into practise and he took a running dive and Neville, knocking him out of the way just as the cauldron exploded. Harry screamed as he felt the thick green substance strike his skin, feeling like acid. He felt himself curl up in a ball, a protective gesture, but wasn't consciously aware of doing so.

His skin burned, he felt like he was being turned inside out. From somewhere in the distance he heard people calling his name. He couldn't breath, he was clawing at his throat. Harry took a running jump towards the nearest fresh air he could. And felt himself falling…

"Potter!" he heard Snape's furious voice as he fell a few centimetres onto the windowsill. Of course…they were already underground. The windows were enchanted. Harry sat up dizzily and found he couldn't see anything but darkness. It was all black. He reached out and touched something. He jerked back as the thing moved.

"_Harry?" the thing whispered hoarsely. That voice sounded familiar. _

"_R…Remus?" Harry replied, hardly daring to hope. What if the potion had brought Remus back from the dead? What if it was a Greatest Wish potion? What if Neville had just achieved something no one had been able to pull off for over a century? _

_The man walked into view, stark against the black background. He looked haggard, his face still bleeding from where he had attacked himself. He had black rings around his eyes, and a heavy slump in his posture. _

"_Remus?" Harry wanted to jump forward to give the man a hug, or at least support him. He found himself rooted to the spot. However another man stepped forward to help Remus before Harry could reach him. And a third on Remus' other side. Harry couldn't see their faces. _

"_You, you killed me, Harry," Remus snarled, in a voice quite unlike his own. "You killed me. You saw me, you saw what they did, and you didn't try to save me! You saved Snape, but you wouldn't even come to save me. You're a bastard, Harry, you deserve to die." _

"_Remus?" Harry whimpered, tears on his cheeks. _

"_Go to hell, Harry," sneered Remus. "And find the fastest route there." _

_  
Harry would have stumbled backwards if he'd been able to but still felt himself rooted to the spot as Remus turned and walked away into the darkness, allowing it to envelope him, and Harry's last chances of talking to him. _

"_Reemuss!" Harry screamed, fighting against whatever it was that bound him. The second man turned around. Harry didn't want to see him, didn't want to know it was him. Sirius stepped forward, his face showing the intent he had. A heavy hand came down to strike Harry in the mouth._

"_You killed him" he hissed. "And you killed me. You were stupid, you were drawn out by Voldemort. What was I going to do, let them kill you? Let your parents blame me for your final demise when they died to save you? No. You killed me Harry. You may as well have, your stupidity killed me. You couldn't have been more responsible for my death if you had picked up your wand and killed me yourself. I'm glad I died Harry," Sirius' voice had become derisive. "I never have to see you again! The sooner Voldemort kills you the better. Hell, ask Snape to chop you up and throw him into a potion, he could get a nice idiocy potion then. Just piss off Harry. I hope you have every moment of suffering you caused me happen to you twice over." _

_Sirius faded into the darkness, leaving Harry in a state of horrified shock as they voiced the feeling's he'd had since their deaths. When the final person turned around, Harry felt sick to his stomach. Glinting red eyes stared him down as the person walked forth, grasping Harry's chin and turning his face up to his own. _

"_Harry, Harry, Harry," Voldemort chuckled. "How you have helped me. At least when I kill it is for my cause. Why did you drive these men to their graves? Through selfish intent. Tut, tut." _

_Harry flinched away from that rough touch as he felt fear racing through his very veins. _

"_You're wrong," Harry snarled. "I killed two Death Eaters a few months ago." _

"_Indeed, and thank-you. You saved me a mess. Traitors the both of them. Working for your side, or were you not privy to that information? Did Dumbledore find it too horrible for poor sensitive Potter's ears?" _

_Voldemort stepped closer, taking Harry's whole face in his hands. He ran his thumb under the bags under Harry's eyes. _

"Oooh Harry, you're winning this war single-handedly for me. Do go on, you're so important for me," crooned the Dark Lord as he bent closer. "And you're mine." He was so close Harry could feel his breath on his face. And then his lips were upon Harry's, sucking away his life, no it was like a Dementor's Kiss, sucking away his soul…

**Next Week (I promise): **What's happened to Harry? How did he end up in the forest? Could this seemingly random post have ramifications later in the story? MAYBE!! … in fact…PROBABLY!!! YAY! Next week in: **Acromatulas **

A/N: Hey guys. Sorry this is short, and sorry for slacking off on my posts – exam time is hectic! (Also note, the above teaser for the next post is simply my insane brain trying to work off stress) Special thanks to cdkobasiuk for the review which finally got be moving again! (Even if it was for BAA rather then TNDL.)


	6. Acromantulas

**Chapter 6: Acromantulas**

"…won't wake up, what the hell does he think he's doing?" The voice sounded anxious. Harry's eyes fluttered groggily as he came too. He realised he was still in the dark, but could make out the faint silhouette of trees and people. He shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself, not wanting to deal with any more accusations. He could still feel those lips…he began to wipe desperately at his own lips, dirty, so dirty.

"Harry?" a figure crouched before him. "Harry, can you hear me?" It was the crisp Scottish accent of Professor McGonagall. Harry nodded sluggishly. "Oh, thank goodness. We must get you inside, it's not safe out here." Harry felt himself being heaved to his feet and someone placing his glasses on. He blinked twice and looked around, now able to see clearly.

Professor McGonagall held him up on one side and Snape on the other. Professor Flitwick was stammering his relief at having found Harry and Professor Dumbledore simply looked curious. Harry shook his head wildly, still trying to discern where they were. Suddenly it hit him like a rock. The Forbidden Forest!

The ground trembled again and he lurched forward, calling out at the same time. He knew who that was!

"Atilia!" he called, struggling as Professor Snape and McGonagall caught him again. "I have to help her," he snapped. "Atilia!" To his surprise, he felt Snape allow him to move, as he continued beside him, helping Harry walk, but allowing him to lead.

"Severus," came McGonagall's sharp voice.

"Let them go, Harry won't get any rest otherwise," came Dumbledore's amused voice. Harry gritted his teeth at that voice but continued forwards. He walked only a few hundred metres before he found the young Acromantula.

Atilia lay under a tree, her deep red blood pooling from a gash across her back. She was whimpering, sounding like a frightened puppy. Harry pulled from Snape's grasp and stumbled forward a few steps further before kneeling beside the young girl.

"Shh, you'll be okay. Who did this to you Atilia?" Harry asked softly, now understanding the feel of his healing magic and using it at once over the wound. The Acromantula winced as he began but replied slowly.

"It was a wizard. He had a strange face, almost like it was a…a ghost. So…so pale. It attacked me. Separated me from my family. I couldn't warn them…I don't know what may have happened to them…he left me here and ran away. He seemed to vanish right there," she waved her long, hairy leg in the direction Harry and Snape had just come from.

Harry glanced up at his Professor in bemusement, but Snape wore a look of comprehension, so Harry assumed he understood and resumed his healing. The wound was larger, and significantly worse then Dumbledore's had been, but Acromantula's were know for their resilience.

"Why didn't your family respond to your cry?" Harry asked quietly, shifting his attention to the back of the wound once the front had healed. Atilia stifled a sob.

"I don't know. I don't know what happened to them!"

"Don't worry," Harry murmured soothingly. Snape was staring at him, mouth open. Did the boy have any idea how much he sounded like Dumbledore? "We'll find them. They'll be fine."

Harry stood, after double checking his work. It was a tremendous job and it was done so well it was as if the injury had never existed at all, save the blood caked on the Acromantula. Harry waved his wand and muttered a cleansing spell.

"Now, let's go find your family hey?" Atilia looked enthusiastic but Snape less so.

"Harry."

"Wait here," Harry sighed, waving impatiently as he accepted Atilia's offer of a ride. Snape shuddered, he didn't think he could stand the touch of one of the beasts. "I'll be back soon."

Despite his nod, Snape followed silently, years of spying would never truly leave him, and kept the boy in full view. At least Harry was sensible enough to keep his wand out, and kept scanning the area for dangers. Even as they moved forward, Snape could feel the pulsing of magic pressing against him, making him shiver.

"Be careful, Harry," he murmured softly.

He could have sworn the boy heard him as he nodded slightly and continued forward on Atilia.

Harry peered cautiously into the clearing which should have held the Acromantula and their webs. He blinked, he couldn't see anything. Harry closed his eyes for a moment and opened them again, focussing on recognising any magic in the area. He gasped as he recognised a very powerful disguise spell on the area.

"Stay here," he told Atilia quietly as he slid from her back and strode forward, looking more confident then he felt. He reached the barrier and leaned forward to brush his fingers against it. He shuddered as what felt like an electric zap struck him and he had a flash of a number of dead Acromantula.

Standing back, Harry sneezed twice and lifted his wand.

"_Finite Incantatum!" _He pushed his powers behind the spell, aware that it would have to be powerful to work. He felt the barrier shudder as the spell hit it, but otherwise it was ineffective. "_Finite Incantatum!" _Harry bellowed, flicking his wand and imagining the barrier falling. The ground shivered, but it was a lighter shake then when the Acromantula called out.

Harry opened his eyes, which had flicked closed at the feel of such powerful magic, as though not seeing could shield him from harm.

"Woah," he gasped as he watched the shimmering barrier fall to the ground and seemingly dissolved. There were no dead Acromantula behind it. The webs seemed undisturbed as Atilia scuttled forward.

"Mother! Father!"

"Atilia," Harry snapped. "Stay right there, there may be more traps."

The young Acromantula froze. She glanced back guiltily and stayed dead still, once leg raised off the ground as if she was about to take another step.

Harry moved forward in her stead, remembering some of the other Acromantula's names.

"Hatha? Quirti? Werrina?" he called, his voice tense and wary, his hand never moving from his wand. He could swear he heard whispers.

"Who goes there?" he heard finally, a voice that made Atilia squeal and walk forward a pace before remembering what she had been ordered to do and freezing again.

"Harry Potter, and Atilia," he added, as the young Acromantula looked at him pointedly.

"If you are truly who you say you are," the voice continued, Harry recognised it as Quirti. "Then state my name, and that of my predecessor."

"Your name is Quirti, your predecessor was really Rentwor, but I assume you are speaking of Aragog."

There were some more hurried whispers before Harry sighed, unable to believe that what he had just said wasn't enough proof.

"Do you know the shape my Patronus makes?"

"Of course, it is that of your father's animagus shape. Everyone knows that," the cautious voice replied.

"And you are aware each Patronus is unique to its caster?"

"Yes." There was still no sign of understanding so Harry groaned and raised his wand a little higher.

"_Expecto Patronum!" _he spoke the words, sounding tired. Immediately, a stag erupted from his wand. "In there," he pointed to the hole. The stag rushed at the hole. There was a collective mutter from inside and the Acromantula came out. Atilia immediately disregarded Harry's request and ran to her parents. Harry's stag came out and disappeared with an affronted look.

Harry snorted in contempt. You'd think it'd be happy to not have to face any more Dementors then necessary.

"Harry Potter, you have saved our kin and for this we are eternally grateful," Quirti began. Harry held up a hand hurriedly and shook his head with a wry grin.

"No, no more eternal gratefulness. Happy to help, let's move on."

The Acromantula looked shocked, but pleased.

"Is there nothing we can do for you?" Quirti asked him, stepping forward cautiously. Harry wracked his brain.

"Just…try not to kill any of my friend's okay?" he gave a half-smile. What could have been an Acromantula chuckle streamed forth.

"We shall try, thank-you Harry Potter." Harry smiled and turned walking back into the forest, towards where he knew Snape would be. He felt a tingling sensation down his back and suddenly felt more awake and energised. He didn't look back, he was aware of who had done it, and he was very grateful as he had been starting to think the leaves on the forest floor looked like a nice place for a sleep once more.

Snape seemed to have returned to the other teachers and Harry rolled his eyes. Some protector! He continued on his way until he reached Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick and Snape. McGonagall looked ill and was clutching a nearby tree for support. Even Snape seemed a little pale. As usual, Dumbledore looked like he knew everything no one else did.

"Well, how are you Harry?" Harry just raised an eyebrow indifferently and brushed some dirt off his robe. "That was some rather powerful magic."

"R…Rather powerful?" McGonagall stammered. "Albus, that was enough power to strip trees of bark! Merlin, James and Lily must be turning in their graves in shock!"

"Er…it was just a _finite incantatum_," Harry pointed out.

"Such spells, Potter, are measured by the power of the spell they are used to defeat, not how powerful the actually spell cast is," Snape told him, his voice thick with scorn. "Although I dare say you simply lost control of your magic."

"The forest would be burning around our heads, Severus, had he lost control," pointed out Flitwick. Harry stifled a snort. Coming from Flitwick, 'around our heads' didn't mean much.

"Hello? I am still here," Harry snapped. "Now what the bloody hell happened? How did I get down here?"

Flitwick looked surprised at the tone, and McGonagall shocked. Dumbledore and Snape stayed impassive.

"You walked," Snape sneered.

"Oh, well that explains my lack of air-sickness," Harry retorted. "Now what the…"

"The potion that you were splashed with was Mr Longbottom's worst attempt ever. He actually managed to reverse the effect of the brew so it instigated a person's worst nightmares, during the daytime, instead of their best dreams, at night time, comprehend, Potter?" Snape demanded tartly, cutting off Harry's curse.

"Yes, thank-you," Harry replied, a sickly-sweet smile on his face. "And as to how I got down here?"

"You walked, you seemed to be in a kind of trance," Dumbledore explained. "You wouldn't stop, or listen to anything we said."

"Well that would be difficult, considering the fact I didn't know what was going on and I was too busy being told it was my fau…" Harry trailed off, a blush staining his cheeks as he coughed to cover the awkward moment.

The other three teachers didn't seem to notice (although Dumbledore probably already knew, Harry thought bitterly), but Snape frowned and looked slightly curious.

"If you would come with me, Potter, I require you to come down to the dungeons for the antidote to the potion, and so I can organise a time for your detention."

The conversation with Draco seemed so long ago this made Harry start and stare at his Professor whose lips twitched up into an evil smirk.

"You didn't think you'd get out of it that easily? Besides, you never finished your potion."

Harry sighed but nodded glumly and trailed after his Professor, leaving the Forest and the other teachers behind.

Next week: Harry follows Snape down to "organise detention" and a new side of their relationship is revealed. (Yay, Snarry yumnes) All this and not much more in **Chapter 7: Those we love**

A/N: Yes well, I PROMISE this all fits in later in the story : ) I know it seems random. Thanks for the reviews once more. I shouldn't have a problem updating next week, even due to exams, I have two days off so I'll do it then. Reviews very appreciated!


	7. Those we love

**Chapter 7: Those we love**

Harry sighed as he walked in Snape's rooms downstairs and flung himself into a chair, thoroughly worn out, completely ignoring the fact that he had missed the rest of his classes for the day, barring Defence Against the Dark Arts, which was currently going on. Harry snorted, it was a waste of time anyway, their teacher had no idea what he was talking about! Honestly, who tried to petrify a patronus?

"Get up!" Snape spat. Harry leapt to his feet, alarm in his eyes. Snape hadn't spoke to him like that in private for a long time. Since before they had become friends in fact. Snape ran his wand up and down Harry's sides, muttering what was obviously a counter-curse before throwing the wand onto the couch in a careless gesture that made Harry raise an eyebrow.

Then he turned on Harry.

"What the hell did you think you were doing you stupid, foolish, impertinent brat?" Snape snarled, his voice deadly. Harry stumbled back half a step. He was definitely alarmed; Snape certainly hadn't said anything like that to him for months. The potions professor grabbed Harry's upper arms to prevent him moving backwards again. "You could have got yourself killed! Just because you have a Christ Complex, doesn't mean you can't use your common sense!"

Harry blinked. Christ Complex? Since when did Snape know anything about muggle religion? The man in question gave Harry a shake.

"Well? Do you have to be Harry bloody Potter the boy martyr all the time? Do you insist on always playing the hero?"

The words made Harry's blood run cold. He stumbled back a few metres, wrenching from Snape's grasp, anger written on his face.

"Is that really what you think of me? Do you really think I stopped to think 'here's my chance to play hero?'" he demanded in disgust. He stepped back a little further, fighting down a sob that threatened to choke him. "Do you think I like being the boy-who-lived? That I enjoy knowing that it falls upon my shoulders to destroy the evilest wizard to walk the earth since Grindelwald?"

Harry was shaking now, getting thoroughly worked up. He thought the man knew him better then this. He had hoped…

Snape's expression softened slightly as he heard the boy's angry and sickened words. He hadn't meant it all to come out like that. Especially not the bit about playing the hero. He knew Harry hated the word, let alone the thought of him being one.

Snape stepped forward a little, not wanting to startle Harry any more.

"I'm sorry, Harry," he sighed. "I didn't mean it like that." However it would seem that Harry's visions and nightmares were plaguing him more then anyone believed because he shied away.

"The hell you didn't," he snapped.

Snape felt desperation in his chest as he stepped forward again. He hadn't realised how much the boy's trust meant to him. He caught Harry's arms again, this time refusing to let go, despite the fierce yanking. He stepped closer, drawing Harry towards him.

"Harry I didn't mean it like that. You should know me better then that by now…"

"So it's my fault?" Harry asked sharply. "I'd think _you_ should know _ME_ better then that by now."

"That's not what I said," Snape growled, his voice like a waterfall dripping through silk. "And that's not what I meant. It is not your fault that the world expects something that should never be put on the shoulders of a child…young man," he corrected himself before Harry could interrupt. "I do not believe you are a hero, or the-boy-who lived, you're just Harry."

Harry swallowed, he loved hearing people refer to him as 'Just Harry'. Not Harry Potter, not the-boy-who-lived, not the-boy-who-would-defeat-Voldemort, just Harry.

"And yet you're so much more," Snape added, pulling Harry a little closer, so the boy, young man, could feel his professor's hot breath on his face. Harry swallowed again. "So much more…and you could have gotten yourself killed," he growled again, but this time he pulled Harry roughly to him. "You could have died, you were screaming, you were screaming at someone that you were sorry, you were telling someone to stop. I thought you were dying."

Snape swooped, his lips grinding down heavily on Harry's. Harry could do nothing but accept those lips. Even if he'd woken up out of his startled mind he couldn't have done anything but accept. Those lips would not give him a second to respond, to reject. Heat ran through his whole shuddering body and a face flashed into his vision, onto his closed eyelids. Red eyes glinted malevolently. _"And you're mine." _

Harry gasped in shock and fear and reared backwards, stumbling and tripping, falling heavily to the ground, smacking his head on the coffee table as he fell.

"Harry!" Snape jumped forward, his face pale, but his cheeks flushed. "I'm sorry I just…"

Harry was shivering, and aware of blood coming from his head, from where he had hit it. He could vaguely make out Professor Snape apologising for something. He leaned forward. He needed reassurance that only one man could give him. He reached up and clutched his Professor around the neck, tears suddenly running down his face so fast he couldn't make out the bemused expression Snape wore as he hugged him tight, and whispering reassuring nothings.

A/N: grins evilly I am aware of how short this chapter is, but I think you were slightly spoilt with the Snarry going on here.

Next Week: Snape provokes Harry to do something foolish, and the return of Norbet…with someone alongside. All this in next week's addition **Chapter 8: What Harry Did. **


	8. What Harry Did

**Chapter 8: What Harry Did.**

A/N: The start of this chapter insinuates something which DID NOT HAPPEN. I didn't even realise it until someone pointed it out to me. NOTHING untoward has occurred at this point.

Harry woke up the next morning and looked at Professor Snape, who lay half on the couch, half on the floor, occasionally muttering something in his sleep that Harry took to be more reassurances, although as he listened, the reassurances seemed to be directed more at himself then at Harry. Snape's sleeve was rolled up, revealing the inky black tattoo that was the Dark Mark. He shivered.

He remembered what this man had been through. How many times he had saved Harry's own life. How many times Harry had snubbed him, treated him like dirt. He remembered the fear of rejection and pain in Snape's eyes that previous night, how scared he had been that Harry would hate him. Just because of that damned mark.

He remembered when they had been visiting Diagon Alley a month ago, Harry under the influence of Polyjuice so no one would recognise him of course. He had stood back as Snape went about his shopping, knowing interrupting him would mean sudden death. Snape went to pay for his goods, and the shop keeper refused his money, insisting that he take the supplies and get out. Because of the Dark Mark.

Even now that Snape was 'cleared' of wrongdoings, (well actually he had been cleared of wrongdoings by Dumbledore's….persuasion with the Ministry, and Voldemort was pleased because it gave him more access to different areas, and Dumbledore was happy because he thought Snape could live a better life) even now, he was being held back, because of that damn mark. Because of Voldemort.

Harry felt a deep surge of fury throughout his whole body. Voldemort had destroyed his life, and he had destroyed Snape's life. When had Snape ever known true happiness? He had been abused as a child, his mother and father had rejected him from day one. Harry wasn't stupid; he hadn't always been the one to cave during Occlumency. Then Snape had arrived at school, where his continued misery was ensured by the marauder's and his fellow Slytherin's isolating him. Then he took the Dark Mark, probably driven to do so through the misery of the rest of his life. Since then his life had been nothing but misery.

Harry stood up and grasped his wand, he felt ready. He looked at Snape and leaned down, gently brushing his lips over the man's forehead before levitating him onto the coach fully.

"You'll know happiness, Severus. Once he's dead. I'll bring you happiness," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Before you wake."

Then he turned and strode out of the door, his hand still clutching his wand as he turned for the stairs, intent on one place as the sun crept over the hills. He strode down passageways, ignoring the portraits shouting at him about where was he coming from and where was he going.

Harry's eyes were set and hard as he arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Justice," he whispered. She nodded sleepily and swung open. He smiled sadly. The passwords had been coming more and more similar like that in the past months. There had also been 'triumph', 'integrity' and 'trust'.

He climbed through the hole and arrived in the common room, warmed by the roaring fire, meaning someone was awake. The red and gold shone at him a little brighter today, as though urging him on in his quest. He stood a little straighter and felt a proud surge run through him. He was a Gryffindor, he would do this!

Striding forward he saw a mop of red hair on the couch. He knew who it would be. Ron hadn't been sleeping much as of late. Too many nightmares of what the Death Eaters had done to Ginny that night…Harry shuddered. Ron had been there, but Harry had seen it all through the Death Eater's eyes.

He couldn't think about that now, not when the slightest distraction could deter him from his path. Hermione, of course, lay beside Ron, snuggled up to his chest, staring into the fire and occasionally speaking soft words of comfort. As though only noticing his presence, she sat up quickly. Her movement caused Ron to jerk his head around.

"Harry," she said softly, getting to her feet. "You didn't come back after potions."

"No," he agreed, his voice quiet, but strong and pained with knowledge of what he was about to do. 'And I may not come back after this,' he thought sadly.

Ron climbed to his feet, looking every inch the gangly teenager as he peered at Harry. He had become a lot more astute since Ginny's death. He frowned, and then nodded acceptingly.

"You're going after him aren't you?" Harry nodded, a little hurt at the tone in his friend's voice, and the look on Hermione's. It was almost saying 'it's about time'. Harry nodded, a determined set to his chin.

This wasn't how he had expected to leave. He had expected to slip in for his invisibility cloak and leave. If he had run into his friends, he had expected them to be upset, at least a little. Instead it was as if the past few years hadn't happened, that they hadn't been there supporting him, telling him to hold on just a little longer. They were almost like strangers. Almost.

Hermione wrapped him into an almost-warm hug, before stepping back with a nod. Ron clapped him on the back, before falling in beside Hermione and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Harry just stared for a moment, before turning on heel and almost running up the stairs to his dorm.

He crept in, making sure not to wake any of his other friends. He ruffled through his case and pulled out his invisibility cloak, and tucked it into a pocket. He sighed and glanced around the room for what might be the last time.

"Good-bye," he murmured.

He had the strangest feeling that someone was awake, he could feel eyes on his back, but he said nothing more, and didn't try to find out who it was as he walked over to the window. He had a suspicion it was Neville.

"Norbert," he spoke softly, but in a voice that definitely spoke 'come'. He guessed that if Norbert had heard him yell, despite how far away he had probably been the previous night, then he probably didn't need to yell anyway. He waited, listening to his dorm mates snore, or toss and turn in some cases. Voldemort had killed Seamus' mother just over a month ago. He had spent time keeping Harry company on the long and, usually, lonely nights Harry couldn't sleep either.

Neville had already felt the harsh brunt of Voldemort's wrath through his parents, and as if that wasn't enough, he had lost his grandmother to a Death Eater riot in the holidays just before their return to Hogwarts. Dean's younger sister had been killed during fifth year, although no one found out about it until the summer holidays via mail. He had been unable to say it face-to-face.

"This is for you guys," Harry whispered to the dark room as Norbert's shape came closer. "Good-luck for the rest of your lives." He bowed his head slightly and climbed onto the windowsill. He waited, the cool breeze ruffling his dark hair gently in the morning dawn. He smirked. How ironic, the break of a new dawn.

_You called? _

Harry was startled as he realised Norbert was hovering nearby. He nodded, his face grim.

"I require a ride, I don't know exactly where yet, but I will find out. However it could take some time, and will be dangerous. Are you willing to help me?"

_I understand the task you are about to undertake. I must first make a stop off, but then yes, I will help you._

Harry expelled the breath he hadn't even noticed he was holding.

"Thank-you."

_What are friends for?_ Norbert asked with a dragon-smile. Harry recalled the reaction he had gotten from Hermione and Ron earlier but shook it away.

"Still, thanks," he repeated himself as he climbed out upon Norbert's wing, and further onto his back, settling himself comfortably. "Let's go."

So they did. They took to the skies, the wind beat at Harry, as if admonishing him and telling him to get back into the castle. He ignored them, and his inner voice. He felt ready, but he felt cold, alone, and he knew this wasn't the way to go into battle. Not that he really cared.

They circled over Bristol, and Harry had a curious sense of deja-vu. His stomach lurched as they began to circle downwards, heading towards a clump of trees in the middle of a forest. The landed with a bump and Harry clutched on hard, afraid of slipping off into that shrubbery. He was too likely to get lost.

He heard Norbert crooning and glanced at him curiously.

_Pip. Pip, _the older dragon called softly. _Come here Pip, at once! _he added more sharply.

Harry gaped as a smaller, much smaller mind, version of Norbert came toddling towards them, trying uselessly to flap his wings. The miniature dragon froze, seeing Harry.

_Pip, this is Harry. I spoke to you about him, when I had to leave last time. _

Pip nodded, looking scared. Harry continued to stare. If this was the egg Norbert had been nurturing, dragons matured quiet quickly. He was two days old and walking?

_He will not be able to fly until his first year is gone. _Norbert answered Harry's unasked question. _However for the first few weeks of a dragon's life they grow quickly. It is imperative to survive. I was the runt of the batch. _He added, sounding amused as Harry wondered at why Norbert seemed smaller then this on his second day with Hagrid. Harry blushed, having been caught out.

The little dragon cocked its head to the side and came forward cautiously.

_Pa? _it asked.

_Into the pouch, Pip. _Norbert instructed. Harry peered at the male dragon's stomach and was shocked to see a pouch there. _We may grow them in times of need. _Norbert explained. Harry just nodded blankly as Pip ran to comply with his father's orders, promptly tripping over his own feet. Harry smiled as the little dragon got up and plundered on, diving into his father's pouch. Norbert smiled a little and turned his head to the sky.

_Where to?_

Professor Snape woke with a start, the strange feeling of a lingering kiss upon his forehead. He reached up to brush the spot while scanning the room for traces of Harry. Had he imagined last night? Dreamed it even? Remembering the feeling of the boy's lips under his own he knew he hadn't.

He frowned and stood up. Something was niggling in the back of his mind. Something wasn't right. Harry had been upset last night after he had kissed him, but as far as Snape could tell, it wasn't because he had done said deed. Snape shifted his aching limbs and stretched out, checking the clock above the mantle place. If required it would tell the time, to anyone bar him that is all it seemed to do, but it was also another version of the Weasley's clock. However his was far more precise and had: Dead; In trouble/danger; DE meeting; Other meeting; Breaking Rules; Mortal Peril (although this wasn't quite as easily effected as the Weasley's); Class; Lost; Distressed; Home; Dorm; AOK; and Not thinking straight.

Since Harry's rather eventful fourth year, he had been added with his own hand on the clock face, and sat beside several Slytherin's, either known trouble makers, or likely to do something rash. Draco Malfoy was up there, his hand currently pointing at 'Breaking Rules' which Snape would ignore until the point where it moved to 'in trouble'. Harry's hand (ironically coloured red and gold) had split as was the tendency for it to do, and currently pointed at 'breaking rules' (did he ever follow them?), 'Not thinking straight', 'in trouble/danger', and 'mortal peril'.

Snape felt his blood run cold and his own hand flicked in two and pointed to 'distressed'. He swallowed heavily. Those four things combined seemed to signal one thing to him, Harry had gone after Voldemort. But Dumbledore would know if Harry had gone through the wards, why hadn't he done something? Why hadn't he called Snape?

Snape heaved himself up off the couch and stormed towards his door, flinging it open and exiting through his portrait of Salazar Slytherin. Without a thought for the number of students mulling about the corridors, Snape swept through the crowds, and overheard Granger saying to one of the other Gryffindor's 'he's done it' on the way to the headmaster's office.

'He's done it?' Snape thought in disgust. If that was what Harry called a friend he didn't wish to be lowered into that category. He sneered in the group's direction before continuing on his way. He said 'squibber wad' to the statue that guarded Dumbledore's tower (it was a new type of gum from Mr and Mr Weasley) and stormed up the stairs and into Dumbledore's office.

The old man looked up mildly. "Ah, Severus. I was expecting you."

"You were expecting me?" Snape spat, his eyes narrowed in fury. "Why would that be Albus? Because you let Harry go gallivanting off to certain death this morning?"

Dumbledore simply poured himself a cup of tea.

"Severus?" Snape glared at him. "No then." He took a sip of tea calmly. "You see Severus, Harry has not gone off to certain death. He has gone off with a great chance of winning, although he is not quite as ready as we had hoped."

"He's…he's not…" Snape spluttered, for once at a loss for words. "Then why did you let him run off?" he demanded harshly, leaning over the man's desk to get right in his face and show that he meant business.

"Please sit down, Severus," Dumbledore said calmly. He waited until the glaring potions professor did as he had asked. "I allowed Harry to leave the school grounds for several reasons. The first being, I do not believe he will be able to locate Voldemort."

"And if he does?" Snape spat.

"It is unlikely," Dumbledore continued, "that he will find Voldemort's hiding place. It is even more unlikely that by the time he arrives, Harry will still be worked up enough to attempt to take him on. His anger is already dying down, I'm sure, and headstrong though he is, the boy is not stupid."

Snape bit back a sharp retort to that but glared at Dumbledore.

"What do you mean? I can assure you he was anything but angry last night."

"I am aware of Harry emotional state last night, Severus, however this morning was a very different matter," Dumbledore explained, his voice still damned soft and understanding. Snape felt anger well up inside of him again. Dumbledore understood _nothing_.

"Why was this morning so different?" he asked tartly.

"Because Harry woke up to you. To you in a nightmare, to you, and the Dark Mark," Dumbledore replied. "It is my belief that this sparked a series of thought that ended with him so angry at what Voldemort has done to you, to himself and to his friends, that he decided to end it once and for all."

Snape growled in the back of his throat. He hated it when Dumbledore knew things he had no right to know. He knew, in his heart, that this thought was only to cover the feeling that Harry running off to his doom was his fault. He should have stayed awake to watch over the boy.

"It is no one's fault, Severus, but Voldemort's," Dumbledore said, as though he had read Snape's mind, although as a skilled Occlumen's, Snape knew that wasn't possible. He was ready to rave at the man again when he paused long enough to get a good look at the headmaster.

The man's face was pale, paler then it should be for certain. His twinkling blue eyes were lacking their usual spark, and…surely not. His eyes were slightly red, his eyelids swollen. He had been crying? Snape went for a softer approach.

"Headmaster, if you knew Potter was angry, and you know how he gets when he's angry, why didn't you at least get someone to track him?"

Dumbledore looked more weary and burdened then Snape had ever seen him as he turned tired eyes to his Professor.

"Because I was too late," he whispered, so quietly that Snape almost didn't hear him. "I didn't realise what was happening until he was through the barriers and well on his way."

"But…how is that possible? I thought you knew as soon as anything goes through the wards," Snape inquired bewildered.

"I do, and I knew something had gone through the wards," Dumbledore nodded, jadedly. "However that something was a dragon. It wasn't for some minutes before I got the sense that Harry was on that dragon. Dragons…"

"Can fly at extreme speeds," Snape finished for him, looking dogged himself. "I understand."

"Tea?" Dumbledore offered.

Snape sighed and rested his head on his arms like a young child. In fact it was a gesture Harry often did when he had resigned himself to an unpleasant fact.

He nodded.

A/N: Okay guys, I hope the length of this one made up for my last post. To "The One" Thank you for you review, but it was only two weeks : ) I'll be back on track now my exams are over. Let's get this party going!

Next Week: Harry's return to Hogwarts, and the consequences of his actions. **Chapter nine: Shame**


	9. Shame

Chapter nine: Shame

Harry gasped hoarsely and held his side, where he was sure he could feel several broken ribs. He could barely see, not only because his glasses had been smashed, but also because of the swelling around his eyes.

All of his spare strength was going into clutching onto Norbert around his neck, his arms so tight he thought he must be choking the dragon. The wing beats were hurried and anxious, and Harry knew why. He still felt awful for having dragged him into it. Harry forced himself forward to peer at the pouch. It was completely still.

In the distance he could see Hogwarts. Well, Hogwarts could actually be a lot closer then he thought but he just couldn't see that far. Beneath him, he could feel the dragon's worry, both for his charge and his child.

Harry closed his eyes, trying to make his head stop spinning as Hogwarts came closer. He was aware of his left shoulder bleeding heavily. His right was either broken or dislocated. As far as he could tell his right ankle was broken and his neck was jarred. His right leg had gone completely dead and he was too scared to look at it. He was aware of a heavy gash from the top of his forehead, across his face, the bridge of his nose, across his lips and finally down to the very edge of his chin. It was bleeding freely and if that caused a scar he would go mental.

Then again, he probably had already gone mental, considering all he had just done, and had done in return. Hogwarts' gates loomed closer and an exhausted Norbert beat his wings faster, clearly eager to dump Harry and go home.

"Leave me here," Harry commanded, unable to deal with the dragon sacrificing any more. "I'm sorry," he added as Norbert complied quickly.

_I too am sorry. _Norbert said softly. _Do not beat yourself up too much little one. I will check on you soon. _

"You needn't," Harry replied hurriedly. "Stay with Pip."

Norbert didn't need any more convincing, and Harry didn't blame him. The dragon took off and didn't look back. Harry stepped into Hogwarts' wards and, feeling slightly safer, promptly threw up several times in the bushes. One thing he hated more then any other was murder, let alone in the cold-blooded way he had done it, so riled he had barely seen the people he had shot that fatal green light at.

He stayed bent over for some time before finally straightening and stumbling forth several metres. God, when had the path to Hogwarts' front doors become so long? A couple of kilometres at least!

He moaned and forced himself a step forward. It hurt like hell and his ankle didn't want to support him. He wanted to weep as his left leg struggled to obey him, the lack of feeling not returning due to contact with the ground. He wanted to, but he wouldn't. He didn't deserve tears, not after what he had just done.

Harry fell to his knees. He knew he couldn't walk, not with a broken ankle and an unresponsive leg. He was still shivering from where the _Cruciatus' _had struck him. 'How undignified an entrance,' he thought wryly. 'Snape will be impressed.' He pressed his palms into the ground and crawled forward a few metres. It was still difficult, with his numb leg, but it wasn't impossible.

The stones on the ground cut into his hands, but the little streaks of blood this caused meant nothing to a rather bedraggled Harry. He wanted to get out his wand and do something, anything to get him to the castle easier, call his broom, _anything_. But he knew he was sapped of all of his magic and magical reserves.

He forced himself to continue, gritting his teeth and telling himself he deserved the pain. His vision went black for a moment before coming back in focus in time for him to see his hand was stuck in the mouth of a strange plant he had never seen before. He growled and pulled his hand away, aware of the large prickles left in his palm and wondering what magical side-effect this would no doubt cause. Hogwarts surely had no non-magical plants.

Ignoring the pain he continued forth, his mind and vision blurring for a second time. He pushed on, ruthless of the damage he was doing to his own body. He frowned as his eyes vaguely made out two shapes moving towards him in a hurry. He moaned. He couldn't fight anything now. He didn't care who or what they were. If he collapsed now they could kill and eat him, he didn't care.

"Harry?" It must be a person, no dragon or snake was that size, he acknowledged as he swayed on all fours. Unless it was a Basalisk. Harry's mind swum at the mere reminder that such a creature existed. That voice sounded surprisingly young and childish. Dumbledore?

"Harry? For Merlin's…" That sounded more like Snape. What was going on? The figures reached him, but he couldn't for the life of him make them out through his much weakened eyesight. Two arms grabbed him under his arms on both sides. He almost screamed from the agony of it.

Instead, he settled for a long groan and grimace of misery as he swayed on his feet, with his right leg held up off the ground to avoid putting more strain on his ankle and his numb leg wobbling dangerously out of control.

"Ready, Albus?" Snape snarled. Harry swayed again and was shocked to find himself swept completely off the ground into his Professor's arms. He flinched but said nothing as his dislocated shoulder was crushed into Snape's chest. "He looks like he should be dead!" Was that truly Snape? His voice quivering in…fear? No, not fear. Concern though, there was definitely a hint of concern. Harry felt gratified.

"We will take him to Poppy immediately." Dumbledore's voice was grave.

They were moving, Snape trying not to bump Harry too much in his arms.

"S…sor…" Harry mumbled, almost unconscious.

"Shh, preserve your strength you stupid, ignorant, foolhardy, brave bloody Gryffindor," Snape snarled, a touch of…something…in his voice.

Harry blinked, had that been a backhand compliment? He shook his head slightly, but not too much as his neck and shoulders hurt too much for sudden movements.

"Sorry," he muttered finally. "I'm gettin' blood on y'r robes," he added, with a slightly hysterical giggle.

"Shut-up, Potter," Snape snapped as they moved into the Entrance Foyer.

Harry realised that it must be dinner as he could hear noises from the Great Hall, the sounds of hundreds of students stuffing their faces…or it could just be Ron in there eating. He giggled again at this thought.

"He is delirious, Albus, how 'ready' does he seem now?" Snape's voice was cutting and harsh and Harry giggled again, trying to lift his arm to rest a finger on his lips to shush him, but unable to get up the strength.

"I said he was not as ready as I would have hoped, Severus. I understand you are considerably distressed so I ask you to wait until you are calm again before we speak of this. Right now, we just need to see Harry is well."

Harry felt himself enter the Infirmary, although the whitewashed walls could not be seen anywhere else in the castle so that might have given it away. He was placed gently on a bed as Dumbledore went to fetch Madame Pomfrey.

"You didn't listen to a single word I said last night did you? You stupid, self-sacrificing boy?" Snape demanded, brushing a hand over Harry's mop of hair affectionately.

"Did it…for…you," Harry gasped, hysterics gone and pain overtaking him. He jerked forward, clutching his burning stomach, the aftermath of the Cruciatus'. "For-what-he-done-to-you."

Snape stood there, surprise written on his face, as Madame Pomfrey bustled over, gasping in shock at Harry's state. She started out with her wand doing a total summary of the injuries.

"Dislocated shoulder, hairline fracture to the ankle, some sort of stunning spell on his leg, bad bruising and swelling around the eyes, terrible curse-cuts there," she added, motioning at his face and his shoulder. "They'll take some time to heal completely, and may scar." Everyone saw the anger and pain in Harry's face at the realisation that he may have even more recognisable scars. "Let's see…four broken ribs on the left side, one on the right, hand seems to be infected by Harmwort…oh dear."

Madame Pomfrey looked horrified and peered closer at Harry's face as though his eyes could tell her why her wand was hovering above his stomach and looking so utterly aghast and outraged.

"Four times?" she asked softly, to herself. She repeated louder. "Four times!"

"Four times what, Poppy?" Snape demanded, worried that he thought he already knew. She turned to him, her eyes burning with tears.

"Cruciatus, Severus. Four times, in a row."

Snape sucked in a sharp breath, his chest had suddenly become restricted as he looked at the boy who seemed so much younger and more vulnerable then ever before, and yet…he seemed to have grown up…and Snape had missed it.

He sat there, staring at them all stony-eyed, daring them to say it was a terrible thing to do to a child, which really, was all he was. He was sixteen years old. He was staring at them like he knew what hell was and he could take it. Like he…deserved to take it…

Right then and there Snape wanted to jump forth and seize the boy in a huge embrace, refusing to let him go, despite how uncharacteristic this show of emotions would be. Harry had, at some point, grown up to believe himself unworthy of so much. He believed he was unworthy of affection, unworthy of love, unless he destroyed Voldemort. Unless he could handle the burden he had had thrust upon him without flinching. No one should have to bear that weight, child or adult.

In order to stop himself doing something stupid, Snape stormed off to grab a vial of pain-reliever and shove it on the bedside table. Harry would require it the next morning.

"Drink this," Madame Pomfrey commanded, shoving a vial of bright red substance at Harry. He sniffed it warily, wafting the smell towards him using his hand as Snape had taught him. Scents could be as deadly as the potion itself. He finally seemed satisfied and drank it down. Snape knew it was a counter-effect to Cruciatus. It did not stop the pain, nor reverse the damage done, but it did help to lessen it, and to stop the pain growing worse as repetitive Cruciatus often did.

Madame Pomfrey was waving her wand and muttering. Harry felt the pain in his right ankle go away. He remembered something that Madame Pomfrey had said to him in his second year. "_I can mend broken bones in a second." _It seemed she hadn't been lying.

Harry uttered a small sigh of relief as coolness washed throughout his ankle, and he felt himself regaining the use of his curse-numbed leg as she ran her wand up that too. He relaxed the muscles he hadn't even realised he had tensed in his leg and stretched a little.

Pomfrey clogged up his cuts, but told him they would have to heal mostly on their own, with a little help from Snape's potions. Harry grimaced. The potion had relieved a little of the ache in his stomach and his ribs were healed. His neck had also been seen to in an instant. Overall he should have been feeling much better, but that gnawing feeling in his stomach just wouldn't go away.

"Some sleep I think, Harry, then we must talk," Dumbledore said, his voice heavy and grave. Harry turned his face away from the headmaster. He hated disappointing him. He nodded and leaned back against his pillows as Pomfrey handed him a potion.

"Dreamless Sleep potion, drink it," she instructed. Harry promptly shoved it away.

"No," he snapped, surprised at the venom in his own voice. "Every time I drink that stuff I get off of all the stupid and disgusting things I've done. This time I'm going to take what I deserve."

"Harry…" Dumbledore began.

"Good-night."

And no one could do anything but leave him be, face buried in his pillows. But as they left, Harry could have sworn he felt long, cool fingers, brush against his neck, and a quiet voice whisper,

"Idiotic Gryffindor."

Next Week: What happened when Harry left to meet with Voldemort? Is the Dark Lord dead? How will Harry cope with this new blow? Find out in **Chapter Ten: Nightmares of a failed dream**

**A/N: **Thank you to all my wonderful reviewer's, you've gotten my butt back into gear with the sequel to this. : ) "The One" Thank you for your comment on the character development. Personally I feel like I rushed it a bit much in this anyway, but I couldn't agree more. I hate it when people open their stories with "OMG," Harry cried "I'm gay and I love Snape!" Lol. Hope you enjoyed this guys!


	10. Nightmares of a failed dream

Chapter 10: Nightmares of a failed dream

_Harry smiled and patted Norbert's neck as they circled lower. The spell he had been researching in the library was a complex one, but he had pulled it off successfully. Usually used by Aurors, it pointed a person in the direction of where the most Dark Magic was being used. At first it just kept pointing to Durmstrang, but finally he cut Durmstrang off using a second spell, and got his directions to Voldemort. _

_He was also well aware that the only reason he could do a spell that could be invaluable to the Order and the Ministry and which no one else could to track Voldemort, was that Voldemort guarded himself against such spells. However those guards were like an opposition to Harry, and Harry's wand, as the brother of Voldemort's, made opposing spells useless. Harry's spell was not an attack or defence spell, and so was not affected by the 'opposing wands' rule. _

"_Wait here, Norbert," he whispered, sliding from the dragon's back to the ground. "I'll be back as soon as possible." _

I will wait, take care, Harry Potter. _Norbert said. _

_Harry walked into the run-down looking shack with his wand out, prepared for the magical enchantments that would no-doubt be inside. There were none. It was a simple shack, no more. For a moment he was worried, had he gotten the wrong place? _

_Harry spun and scanned the room, searching for…what? He saw a stack of shelves with pickled, well everything, on it, all coated in dust. There was an old bed in one corner, which the spiders had taken a liking to, and a desk in another, the ink well had long dried up. Finally there was a cupboard. Harry shuddered, 'all the happy memories,' he thought sarcastically. _

_He turned to make a search of the desk when something caught his eye. He frowned and stepped closer. Was it? A snake! There was a long serpent carved into the wood above one of the handles. _

_Harry stepped closer and reached for the handle. He turned it. Nothing happened. He stared hard at the snake, trying to visualise it as alive. He frowned and tried again, he couldn't picture it moving. His mind flashed back to the Brazilian snake he had set free in his first year. That had been alive. Pretending to be talking to that snake again he looked squarely at the wooden carving and spoke._

"Open!"

_He hissed the word and watched as the snake slithered around the handle once and he heard it unlock. With a satisfied smile, Harry twisted the knob. It opened at once. He smiled and whispered,_

"Lumos." _As he stepped inside. _

_Inside were a steep set of steps going down. He began to walk down, careful. It would not do for the saviour-soon-to-be-of-the-wizarding-world to fall down a flight of stairs and crack open his skull. That would be most undignified. _

_He reached the bottom of the stairs and peered around the corner, sucking in his breath when he saw two Death Eaters obviously standing guard. They must have been doing it for a while because they looked thoroughly disinterested and were playing a game of cards. Harry quickly murmured,_

"Knox."

_He stepped forward a little, the corridor was lit dimly with lanterns so he could still see the Death Eaters. _

"Petrificus Totalis," _he whispered, aiming his wand squarely at the first Death Eater. It hit its target fair and square. The Death Eater collapsed forward onto his friend who roughly shoved him to the side and peered into the stairwell. He edged forward and Harry caught his breath. He couldn't afford to petrify this one. If he did and someone released them both…he would be dead. He couldn't handle two Death Eaters. Closing his eyes for just a moment he steeled himself for what he had to do. _

"Avada Kedavra!" _he croaked. God he didn't want to do it, and yet he must have, because the green light hit the Death Eater and killed him immediately. Harry knew you had to mean the unforgivables._ _"I'm sorry," he murmured as he stepped over the dead body. But was he? He wasn't so sure. _

_The mask had slipped somewhat to reveal a face. Crabbe. Harry guessed his fellow Death Eater was Goyle. His stomach lurched and he wiped a tear he hadn't even realised he had shed from his cheek. He hated killing, and this was definitely a senseless death. Why did people have to be so stupid and follow so blindly? _

_His anger and motivation was ebbing away but he pressed on. After all, he had come this far. Merlin, he hoped someone was watching over him as he walked further down the dimly lit corridor. He shivered, there was a cool breeze nipping at him from all sides. He wondered where it was coming from, although he guessed there would have to be air vents of some kind down here. Because Harry was sure he was underground. _

_He walked for what seemed like hours, but might have only been a few minutes. Harry's heavy sense of growing dread settled more firmly in his stomach with every step but he saw the look on Snape's face that morning in his mind and set his shoulders more firmly. He was doing this for Snape. For Hermione, for Ron, for Ginny, and Cedric, and Sirius and his parents. _

_Harry stopped short as he almost ran into a large oak door. He swallowed heavily, angry at his own fear as he looked a large wooden carving of a python and commanded, _

"Open_!" _

_The door obeyed, swinging open suddenly, without Harry having to move to turn the handle. He swore silently. It was a good trick, and one that would allow anyone entering the room to be in full view of its occupants immediately, getting rid of the possibility of a surprise attack. Trust Lord bloody Voldemort. _

"_Ahh," said person grinned lazily down at Harry from what was clearly a throne. There was at least thirty odd Death Eaters kneeling at his feet. "Look who has decided to pay us a visit!" he hissed, his voice mocking. "Harry Potter. And, I don't see a single member of the precious Order with him!" he exclaimed with false surprise. The Death Eaters sniggered obediently. Harry was suddenly sure with a sickening lurch that Voldemort had been aware of his presence since he had entered the shack. _

"_Well, Mr Potter, I believe you are just in time. Our night's entertainment was cut short rather fast tonight, but you will suffice," Voldemort leered, turning his wand carelessly in his long, pale fingers as he pointed at a skeleton in the corner of the room. _

_Harry suddenly came to life, unfreezing and finally blinking. He swore at himself for being caught off guard. _

"Avada Kedavra!" _he bellowed, his voice shaking only slightly. _

"Prowertia," _Voldemort said lazily, pointing at one of his Death Eaters. Harry was confused, there was no way to block the killing curse. It was with sickening realisation that he saw what Voldemort had done as the Death Eater leapt in front of his master and effectively took the killing curse himself. Voldemort had forced the man to protect him. _

"Avada Kedavra!" _Harry yelled desperately, firing off another shot. "_Avada Kedavra!" _he added again, hoping to catch the man off guard. Instead two more unfortunate Death Eaters met their untimely end. _

"_You will have to do better then that, Harry Potter," Voldemort smirked. Harry tried again, and again and two more Death Eaters fell. He swore. He knew it was useless and suddenly that wand was pointed at him. He turned, prepared to run but it was futile._

"Crucio!" _Harry fell to the ground, his whole body shaking and jerking, every fibre of him was in complete agonising torment. He screamed, and thrashed as he heard the distant chilling laughter of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. The spell was suddenly released and he tried for the door again, with no more success then the last time as that cold voice instructed, "Grab him." _

_Two Death Eaters stepped forward and did just that, throwing Harry coldly onto the floor at Voldemort's feet. _

"_Lucius, would you do the honours?" Voldemort asked. _

"_It would be my pleasure, my Lord," replied the unmistakably malicious voice of Lucius Malfoy as he got up from the ground and pointed his wand at Harry who could do no more then cower, so boxed in by Death Eaters. "_Crucio." _Harry's body jerked and he wept, to the delight of the onlookers. He tore at his own body, at the stones, at everything he could touch. He screamed himself hoarse until finally,_

"_Enough Lucius, I want him conscious for this." Lucius released Harry, albeit ungraciously as he fell back upon his knees and waited for more orders. Voldemort deigned to get up. _

'_How lovely,' Harry thought viciously, though he felt his neck jarred and painful and could swear he had jammed his foot into a large crack in the stone, where it was currently refusing to come out. _

"Salicia!" _Voldemort said with a smirk, pointing his wand at Harry's shoulder. He gasped as a large gash opened up and thrashed for a moment, trying frantically to get away from Voldemort, from the pain, from certain death. "Now, now Harry," Voldemort smiled viciously. "Do not be such an ungracious guest. Naughty boys must be punished." Harry felt another painful wound streak across his face. It was like being cut open by a boiling hot fire poker, sharpened and blunted at the same time. _

_He screamed and thrashed again, aware of his wand slipping out of his reach. He yelled and wept as he moved his head this way and that, effectively abusing his already sore neck as the sides of his head came into contact with the ground, smashing his glasses and paining his eyes. He felt a sickening crack as his ankle broke. _

"_Get up, boy," Voldemort snarled, suddenly seizing Harry by his non-injured arm and dragging him to his feet, worsening the ankle as it was freed from the crack. Harry felt his should slip out of place as he stumbled back a step. _

_A Death Eater must have reached out to trip him because skin struck his leg and he fell backwards, heavily. A fist struck his left eye, hard. A second took his right. He convulsed but had no more energy to fight. It seemed Voldemort was going to allow his Death Eaters to scrabble over Harry like dogs on a piece of meat as he was pushed close to his wand. He grabbed it in a slack grip determined to do one last thing before he died. _

_With the last bout of energy he could marshal he pointed his wand at Lucius Malfoy. _

"Avada Kedavra!" _he rasped. The green light flashed and the man fell. Harry's wand was knocked from his hand, further away this time, close to his escape but neither were even close to his reach as he was shoved hard back onto the cold, hard cobblestones. _

_Harry lost count of how many times he was struck and stood on. How many times his clothes were ripped and how many curses and Crucio's were sent at him. All he knew was he had to stay alive. He had to kill Voldemort, for Snape. For everyone who the bastard had ever hurt. Every searing blow took him a little further away from his goal. _

_A sudden and unexpected sound broke through the pummelling of Harry. It was a screech, young, unbroken, unwary. _

"Pip!" _Harry screamed, his voice haggard and hoarse. "_Get out of here_!" _

_It was too late though, as a curse was sent the young dragon's way, an agonising screech told him it reached its target, although its effect was not one he was aware of. Taking the split moment's distraction he made a ragged lunge for his wand, and felt his hand close around it as the door burst further open, this time it was the massive figure of Norbert that darkened the room. _

Pip! I told you to stay with me. _The Ridgeback chided, deflecting the curses sent his way without blinking an eyelid as he forced his young into his pouch. He looked around the room and saw Harry, crawling in his direction. _

_Letting out an earth-shattering screech he reared up onto his hind legs and charged at the Death Eaters. They all moved from his path without a second thought as Harry stood wobbly on his good leg and threw himself towards Norbert's pouch. He made it, almost. At the last second he felt a stunning spell hit his leg but knew the magical protection of the dragon's pouch, which held the rest of his body, would protect the rest of him. _

_He felt himself pass out as soon as he entered the pouch, the agony he was feeling and the sheer effort it had taken to get into said pouch had been too much. He didn't know how they got out of the underground hidey-hole, or how long they had been flying for before he came too. _

"_Norbert?" he whispered, his voice deeply pained. "Can you take me back to Hogwarts?"_

We are going there now, little one. _Norbert replied, his voice laced with anxiety for his pup. Harry felt the young dragon pressed against him, bleeding heavily. He swore, he should have taken care of Pip before passing out. _

_He rested his hands on the wound across the dragon's stomach. The Ridgeback whimpered but did not protest as Harry closed his eyes and worked the Acromantula magic, weaving and ducking to try and heal the wound. He found the best he could do in his exhausted state was to cover the wound completely to avoid any more blood loss, but he could not seal it together. _

"_I'm sorry," he murmured, rasping. "It's the best I can do." _

It will do for now. _Norbert said gravely._ Would you mind getting onto my back so Pip has a little more room to rest?

_Harry nodded and climbed carefully onto the dragon's back, although he wasn't sure where he had mustered the strength from. Once he was perched between those wings the flashbacks began. _

_  
The pain increased tenfold. The dead bodies, the Death Eaters he had killed. He remembered that flash of green light. Over and over in his head. He had murdered. He had killed people in cold-blood, and yet he had not destroyed Voldemort. _

_He had killed Lucius Malfoy._

_He was a murderer._

Harry jerked away, screaming as he convulsed and sat bolt upright in his bed, ignoring the pain the movement caused him. He deserved it, he was a murderer.

"Harry? Shh, you're okay," gentle hands stilled his movements and a worried face entered his blurred vision. He struggled valiantly for a moment before his already wanning energy gave out and he collapsed back against the pillows, tears streaming in hot lines down his face. "Shh, you're alright, Harry," Snape's soothing voice came. Had he the frame of mind or the will Harry would have found the idea of a soothing Snape two nights in a row to be highly amusing.

"Let go," he snarled, his teeth gritted as he shook his shoulders out of his Professor's grip. "I don't deserve your pity!"

Snape lessened his grip but did not let go. He wiped a string of damp hair away from Harry's less swollen eyes and tucked it back into the mop of unruly hair.

"I do not pity you, Harry," he replied, his voice soft. "I merely accost your own self-hatred."

"Leave me alone!" Harry instructed, his voice inscrutable. His eyes were dull and lifeless.

"I will not, especially when you are in such a state," Snape responded, finally letting go of Harry's still sore shoulders, realising he was causing pain. Snape had no intention of leaving Harry after what had happened because he had fallen asleep the previous night.

Harry turned his head away from his Professor, sitting up again and swinging his legs over the far side of the bed. Snape arched an eyebrow.

"What do you think you are doing, Mr Potter?" His formal tone said things to Harry. Things such as 'you're a worthless little piece of shit, go to hell.' He shivered but told himself he deserved it as he stood shakily on the cold floor, finding slippers to warm his feet. He did not respond to his Professor's question. It wasn't like he was worthy to talk to the man anyway. He had failed him. "Did you hear me? What do you think you are doing imbecile?"

Harry took the insult with the tiniest nod of his head. He deserved it. What he didn't deserve was the concern that laced the insult and the rest of the words. He struggled to stand completely upright for a moment, aware that the numbness the sunning spell had caused on his leg had yet to completely leave him. Then, with his dogged Gryffindor never-say-die attitude, he forced himself to take a step closer to the door.

He was so focused on the task of getting one foot in front of the other that he was startled when two hands rested on his shoulders and a shape gently pressed into his back.

"Harry," Snape breathed softly into his ear. "You have done nothing wrong, you silly nitwit. You need to get back into bed and get better, for your sake and for every one else's."

Harry shook off the hands and stepped forward again.

"Why?" he demanded, unable to face his professor. "So I can go and do something ridiculously reckless and stupid again? So I can get everyone's hopes up and disappoint them once again, to show them just how useless the-bloody-boy-who-lived really is?"

For once, Snape was left speechless as the boy shuffled closer to the door. Did he really have such low self-esteem? Before he had another chance to berate or question Harry, he was gone. Snape blinked, what had just happened? He frowned; one thing he knew for sure was that Harry thought he'd done something terribly heinous.

And Snape was going to make sure he knew otherwise.

Next week: The ramifications of what he has done leaves Harry feeling alone, paranoid and pathetic. And Snape decides something must be done in Chapter eleven: **Protecting Potter**

**A/N: **Many fantastic reviews this week, thank you guys so much!


	11. Protecting Potter

**Chapter 11: Protecting Potter**

Since that fateful day Harry had returned from his mission bloodied, battered and unsuccessful, he had avoided people as often as possible. He went to few classes, and never answered questions. He sat at isolated desks, had no enthusiasm, and got his food from the kitchens while the others were in the Great Hall. He slept outside sometimes, rather than be in the dorm where he was clearly unworthy.

He had even refused to answer the call of Professor Dumbledore who wanted to speak with him about what had happened. He had written back in a short, curt letter that he had been an idiot, nearly been killed and had not managed to do away with Voldemort, and that was all he had to say.

He showed no enthusiasm for anything, his cuts and bruises healing gradually over the span of a month, his limp leaving him after just a few days. His left shoulder clearly still gave him trouble, but he did not complain, in fact no one had heard him speak since the last day in the Infirmary.

His favourite place to go was into the Forbidden Forest, where he was sure no one would follow, and yet felt a sense of security himself. He knew he was protected by creatures who did not know of his stupidity, or of his failure. He felt bad that he was using them for his own ends, but was unable to stop his need for a quiet place that was his own.

Norbert had come and checked on him a week after the failure, saying that Pip was healing slowly but surely, and that Harry had probably saved his life. Before Norbert could swear another life-debt, Harry had told him that it was Harry's fault that Pip had been in danger in the first place, and it had been the least he could do, before saying good-bye to the Ridgeback and disappearing into the castle.

At that moment, Harry was slowly making his way down to the dungeons for the first potions lesson of the past month. He did not deserve to be taught by the man he had failed so terribly, but he was aware of the fact that the lesson was to be a Dreamless Sleep lesson and Harry needed that vial so desperately it hurt. He would not ask for Snape to give him any, that would be so wrong in so many different ways. He did not deserve Dreamless Sleep, he knew that, but if he had to see those dead bodies, that flash of green light one more time, he couldn't honestly say he wouldn't turn his wand upon himself.

He did not allow his friends to escort him down, as they so clearly wanted to do. Instead he stalled and waited behind until they had decided he would not be coming, before making his own way down. Each step felt like it took all of his effort not to turn and flee like a scared puppy dog. He gritted his teeth and ploughed on until he found himself standing outside the room.

"Deigned to come and learn with the lowly classes have you, Potter?" Malfoy jeered, from where he stood in a group of Slytherins.

'Lower classes my arse,' Harry thought to himself, his face impassive. 'I'm as low as any son of a death eater.'

It was understandable that Malfoy would try and bait him, after all Harry _had_ killed Lucius. 'Yes you killed him you disgusting son-of-a-bitch,' his own mind snarled at him and he fought an internal battle to keep from decking himself.

"What no smart-ass remark?" Malfoy sneered. "Our hero-boy lost for words? Oh I forgot, you aren't a hero anymore are you? People have seen what an idiotic _Gryffindor_ you really are, attempting heroics you can never complete!"

"I managed to complete one heroic quite well." The words were out of Harry's mouth before he could stop them. His voice was harsh and rasping from a month of no use. No one was left in any doubt of which heroic he was talking about.

Malfoy had his wand out, and had Harry against the wall with the tip of the ebony pressing into the base of Harry's throat within seconds, his eyes deadly slits. Harry didn't close his eyes, his face remained impassive.

"Go ahead," he croaked. "You'd be doing me a bloody favour."

The Gryffindors around him gasped, their eyes grew wide as Malfoy looked like he would be more then happy to finally do Potter a favour. Hermione made to step forward but was restrained by Ron as the Slytherins cheered Malfoy on.

"Don't push it, Potter, I'm more then capable!"

"So you say, go ahead," Harry urged, leaning into the wand so the tip of it practically carved a hole in his throat. Malfoy opened his mouth, his eyes glinting maliciously. Harry could tell already that the little SOB wasn't going to kill him, but what he had in store would at least be minor punishment.

"_Cruc…"_

"MR MALFOY!" Malfoy dropped his wand in shock. Professor Snape had just arrived at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes held deadly promise, his whole body seemed to be shaking with rage as his wand aimed squarely at Malfoy. He almost seemed ready to do a Moody and turn Malfoy into a ferret. "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" Snape snarled, his voice laced with furious lethal warning. "One hundred and fifty points from Slytherin. Go to the Headmaster's office NOW!" It seemed Snape couldn't invent a bad enough punishment.

Malfoy had turned pale and he was shaking in shock. He turned on heel and ran as fast as he could in the other direction, losing all composure as he stumbled away. The hallway was silent, barring Harry's harsh, almost angry breathing. He was glaring at his Professor who turned to look at him. Their eyes met.

'He wanted it,' Snape realised with shock. 'He wanted Draco to hit him with Cruciatus.'

"Everyone, inside now!" Snape barked, his gaze narrowing at Harry's furiously defiant one. The Slytherin's and Gryffindor's hurried to obey. Harry stayed where he was, against the wall, his arms crossed across his chest as he stared at his potions Professor.

"You should have let him have me," he whispered, his voice croaky. Snape refused to break eye contact with the boy as he stepped forward.

"You're on a dangerous path, Potter," he snapped, his voice and tone formal in case anyone was listening. "Twenty points from Gryffindor. Stay behind after class. Get in."

Harry obeyed. He could hardly deny the man anything after what he had done after all could he? He walked into the classroom, aware of many eyes on him as he scanned for a seat. Hermione and Ron were waving slightly from the back of the room but he ignored them, feeling that too-familiar gnawing feeling in the bottom of his stomach as he realised he had failed them once more.

A spare seat by the window sat him close enough to see the board, but with a chair between him and the nearest other person, Dean Thomas. He sat and took in what Snape was saying with an almost-attentive look on his face, but his green-eyes spoke of the despair even this action caused him. He didn't deserve to learn from this man, or to learn this potion to use for himself.

He frowned and concentrated hard, not noticing as he began to cut up his spider's legs that Snape watched him with a worried look disguised on his face. He had, of course, planned this lesson in the hope that it would get Harry's attention. It seemed it had been successful but the little display he had seen outside in the corridor had enhanced his fears for the boy's mental and physical safety tenfold.

The boy had not spoken, eaten or so much as shared looks with Snape since that night in the Infirmary, despite the Professor's valiant efforts. Of course all of this needed to be subtle, for otherwise some of his snakes might catch on that he was actually concerned about the boy-who-lived.

Said boy was currently performing his potion to perfection, every ounce of energy focussed on it and the instructions he had written down to one side. Snape smiled sadly, allowing it to grace his features for but a second before he slipped back into his cold façade. He had no doubt that Harry had been having nightmares since the night he had fought the Dark Lord, although Snape didn't know any details, barring the fact that Harry had failed and been severely attacked in the process.

He frowned as he prowled between the cauldrons, dishing out his usual scathing remarks to the Gryffindors and praise to some Slytherins. He arrived next to Harry's cauldron, which appeared to have the perfect mixture in it. It saddened Snape to think that Harry might have been doing badly in potions for so long through simple resentment of the Professor.

"Abysmal as usual, Potter," he breathed harshly, to the delight of the nearby Slytherins who were currently still in shock of the loss of one hundred and fifty house points, leaving them behind Hufflepuff! "But I won't say more then that, to save you from slipping a tear or two into it and making your abomination even stronger."

As he walked away he felt comprehension dawn on Harry's face as the boy glanced up at his Professor's back. Harry lowered his head over his potion, closing his eyes and clutching his hair in furious tight fists. He didn't deserve help from his Professor, not after he had failed him so miserably. Even as these thoughts entered his head he felt his eyes welling, not intentionally, and two teardrops fall into the mixture.

He jerked his head back, save using Snape's help even more. He could have kicked himself for having used it, unconsciously or not.

"Everyone bring one vial of your potion up to my desk, Potter stay behind."

Harry felt dread growing in his chest, and fear caught his heart. He was certain his Professor was going to punish him for his failure. 'You warrant no less,' he told himself harshly. He watched the others leave, with Hermione and Ron sparing him sympathetic glances which he turned away from.

Harry waited by his cauldron, desperate to leave. He had been in close company with too many people he had failed for far too long already. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another, refusing to raise his glassy eyes to meet Snape's calculating ones.

"Harry." One simple word, one simple goddamn word that he had worked so hard to get Snape to say and Harry almost came unstuck. He was stronger then this, he knew, or at least he had thought he was. He remembered that day in the forest, as he controlled the Acromantula and the dragons'. Perhaps controlled wasn't the right word but he had never felt so powerful or so…in command of his own actions. Since then eh felt like he had lost that power, and he had let that control slip through his fingers until he wasn't even left with what he originally believed he had.

"Harry, look at me," Snape commanded, stepping closer to the boy. Harry could no more deny this man anything then he could Hermione or Ron, not after what he had done, or, rather, not done. He raised his head, his emerald eyes positively blank, though he felt the tears swimming behind them. "Talk to me," he whispered, reaching out to try and touch the boy's face. Harry flinched away. Such affection could not be wasted on him. Snape persisted though, taking another step forward, and this time laying a gentle hand on Harry's healed shoulder. "Please, tell me what's going on. Why are you avoiding me?"

Once again, Harry felt himself having to reply, despite not wanting to.

"Because I don't deserve to talk to you. I don't deserve to learn from you, or see you. I don't deserve to be in the same school as you, much less the same room," he whispered, his voice laced with a strange pain and harshness at himself that Snape had never heard in his voice before. It almost seemed like the boy was despairing, something Snape hadn't heard since Lupin's death.

"Why on earth wouldn't you?" Snape asked, reaching up with his other hand to gently rest it on Harry's still-injured shoulder. Harry attempted to pull away but Snape, with careful force, refused to allow it.

"Because I failed you, I failed everyone," Harry replied, his voice so low Snape's well-trained ears only just managed to catch it. "I promised you, I promised I would make it so you could be happy again, and I failed."

"You did nothing of the sort!" Snape was surprised with his own harsh, hoarse tone. "You tried, yet you were unprepared, and you did not defeat the Dark Lord. Plenty before you have tried, and all have failed. You have shown more courage and heart in the face of such ominous dangers then any wizard or witch I have ever met, Harry, and you faced the last such onslaught with just that. I do not know what happened that night, but I do know that despite everything you still put another's safety and happiness before your own. Albus told me you sent that dragon home to nurse its young, despite the fact you couldn't even walk. You did not fail, Harry, you showed your heart, and so you did not fail me or anyone else."

"It was my fault Pip was hurt in the first place," Harry replied, dropping his eyes back down to the floor, feeling himself swaying slightly from fear and self-hate. "If I hadn't been so stupid…everyone's right. I went and played friggin' hero all over again. Once more, I did nothing more then put others in danger. You were right, I do have a Christ Complex. Or at least I did. Stuff it now. I won't be 'saving' any one else. Never again."

Snape heard the emphasis of sarcasm on the word 'saving' and knew at once what Harry was saying.

"Harry people who put their lives on the line for you do it by there own choice, they are not forced to. You are teenager, Harry. No teenager should have to deal with what you've had to…"

"Stop using that excuse!" Harry screamed suddenly, breaking away from his Professor. "Everyone keeps using that to mask my failures. 'He's a teenager,' 'He's a child' 'He shouldn't have to deal with this.' Well guess what? I should have to deal with this! I should because I deserve it! Even when I was a baby people died to protect me and I've been as good as killing my friend's since then."

Harry's whole body was shaking and he nearly fell into his cauldron in his haste to get away from Snape.

"You've long put to rest that others have died for the cause, not because of you, Harry. What is this really about?" Snape asked, his voice interested and concerned. Harry was hiccuping, but when had he started crying? He jumped forward as Harry's legs gave way, to catch the young man. Harry clutched onto Snape like a lifeline.

"I killed them, I killed them in cold blood," he whimpered suddenly, his fists clutched in little balls around the black cloak. "I killed without knowing or caring who they were…it…it could have been you!"

Comprehension dawned in Snape's eyes. Harry had killed? He had killed Death Eaters. In cold blood? That part Snape would not believe. It had taken a month of steady counselling to get Harry over destroying two Death Eaters while rescuing Snape, despite the fact it had been a heat-of-the-moment necessity. Snape thought it wise not to remind Harry that this wasn't the first time he had killed.

What he also couldn't understand was the boy's terror at the thought that he might have killed his potions professor. Of course, they were friends. But not great ones, or at least, Snape didn't think Harry thought so. The two kisses they had shared had been spur-of-the-moment ones, provoked by strong emotions and scary situations

"Harry, did you kill to protect yourself?" he asked softly, feeling the shuddering body in his arms as the trembling went from back to worse. He felt Harry nod, then shake his head.

"I killed…I killed once…when Crabbe nearly got me, that was protection. The other times…Merlin…I tried to kill him, I really did. But he forced the Death Eaters to protect him. I killed six of them before he stopped me. Then…when they were attacking…I…I killed…Malfoy…" he stammered, tears soaking Snape's robes as he clung so desperately to the man he had no right to cling to.

"Lucius?" Snape looked shocked as he pulled Harry away from him, searching the pale, defenceless face. The boy nodded his head miserably. He took the sudden withdrawal as rejection and struggled to free himself.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, voice ragged and fatigued. "I thought you were friends but he…he was the one…the first one after Voldemort to cast…to cast Crucio…he enjoyed it…I was angry…and scared…I thought I was going to die and I just wanted…wanted…"

"Revenge?" Snape suggested softly. Harry nodded, the turned his face away, as though he was unworthy of looking upon Snape. "Merlin, Harry…" Snape pulled him into a hug. "It wasn't your fault, it certainly wasn't cold blood. Lucius and I were never close, and as you can clearly see, you didn't kill me. I wasn't even there, I swear if I had been I would have protected you."

Snape sounded angry and disappointed in himself, but Harry couldn't understand why. And why was the man being so forgiving?

"But…didn't I disappoint you?" Harry asked, his voice so god-damn vulnerable. Snape kept his arms around the boy and pulled him closer.

"No, Harry…Merlin no." He found himself wanting to shed a tear for the boy's plight, something he hadn't done since he was very small and had seen his father being dragged away by dementors.

"But I…"

"No, Harry," Snape cut him off firmly. "You have done nothing wrong, to me, or to any of your classmates. It is a huge burden and you have shouldered it valiantly. True, emotions got the better of you for a while, you were not successful in defeating the Dark Lord, but not all lack of success is failure, Harry."

He found the boy pulling away, probably to expression confusion at the statement. Instead of allowing the movement, Snape ran a hand tenderly through Harry's mop of inky hair.

"Here, have some of this," he instructed, thrusting Harry's vial at him. "You need to rest. We can talk some more when you wake up."

Harry looked like he was fighting an internal battle, knowing he needed rest but not wanting to accept Snape's help. Finally his exhaustion won out, and he decided to take the potion. 'Although,' Snape thought wryly. 'He's probably only taking it because he can't properly 'accept' his punishment of isolation if he's too tired to know what's going on.' It saddened hi, to a point which he was unaware of having felt it before. He could have sworn his heart, with the ice around it already melted from the experiences and respect he shared with Harry, was breaking in half at the agonised expression on Harry's face.

"I'd better go then…" Harry murmured. Snape didn't realise what he was doing until it was done.

"No, stay. I'd prefer to keep an eye on you."

"Oh yes, that worked out well for you last time didn't it, sir?" Harry's voice was tinged with irony. "Taking in waifs is never a good idea, sir, especially when they have a Christ Complex."

"Just sit down, Harry," Snape sighed, steering the boy to the couch, hands firmly on his shoulders. "What happened last time is already forgotten, although when I wake up I expect to see you here alright?"

Harry blinked.

"Forgotten?" his mouth twisted into a lopsided smile. "Well it's different. Forgotten, not forgiven." He chuckled humourlessly.

Snape started. He hadn't expected his words to be taken that way. He reached out instinctively, to rest a hand on Harry's cheek. The boy leaned into the touch longingly and Snape bit his tongue. Harry was so starved of affection that, even against his own will, he would do anything for it. That was something that Snape would have to deal with, it was too likely to be used against him.

"I will not say I forgive you, Harry," he said quietly, his heart wrenching at the anguish on Harry's face as he spoke the words. To reassure him he pressed his hand a little more firmly into that far too thin cheek. "I will not, because I cannot forgive you for something you have not done wrong. Now drink, I will be here all night."

Harry nodded wearily, too tired to comment any more. He could no longer fight off the man's good intentions and he lifted the vial to his lips, drinking down the blue liquid and falling back onto the couch. The last conscious thought that ran through his head as his half-closed eyelids saw Snape place a pillow under his head and a blanket over his body was,

'I don't deserve him.'

Snape stayed awake, after taking a swig of his strong Pepper-Up potion, and watched over Harry, his face contorted in thought as he watched the boy thrash about, as though even without bad dreams he was aware subconsciously of what he had done. It was only this fact that showed Snape just how much not defeating Voldemort had messed Harry up.

He swore, right then and there, that he would look after Harry. The boy was now his number one priority. Voldemort had done this to Harry. If Snape went to his Lord's side right then, he would throttle him into oblivion. So Harry took priority, over Voldemort, over teaching, over Dumbledore. It wasn't long before Snape realised, that priority had always existed.

He leaned forward from his position perched on the arm of the couch, to swipe away a long black hair from Harry's face. He smiled ever so slightly, the affectionate gesture was so out-of-character for him, but Harry just seemed to bring out that side of him. His mouth settled back into a scowl as he moved to sit on the coffee table in front of the couch, his mind wandering back to Malfoy that day. The idiot boy had tried to Cruciatus Harry!

Fury laced through Snape's veins, racing through his system as he clenched his fists and glared at the black-haired student that lay sleeping on his couch. He couldn't believe that Harry had truly wanted to feel Cruciatus once more. That Harry could possibly want punishment for something that wasn't his fault burned Snape all the way down into his soul. He knew his eyes were dark and stormy as he watched that not-quite-peaceful face.

Harry's eyelids fluttered, and emerald eyes groggily focused on the face in front of them. His hand twitched towards his wand for a second but stopped when he took in who it was. Snape. Glaring at him like he had tried to kill someo…

He gulped suddenly and scrambled to sit up, the events of the previous month hitting him, hard. His head felt heavy and he swayed, even sitting down as his head spun.

"Take it slowly," Snape warned, suddenly reaching out to hold him steady.

Harry shivered at the contact. He was starkly aware of Snape moving, coming to sit next to Harry, where he had laid his head a second ago. His arm wrapped around Harry's shoulders, taking it easy on the injured one. He pulled Harry closer, and rested his chin on the thick black hair.

"I wasn't glaring at you," Snape continued, seemingly aware of what had made his student look so nervous. "I was thinking about what Draco did yesterday."

Harry had to think for a moment before remembering.

"You shouldn't have stopped him," he murmured, looking at his feet as he thought about the look on Crabbe's face once the mask was off. The shock, and the clear lack of intent which said he hadn't been ready to attack or defend.

He was startled out of his reverie as heavy hands dragged him around to face Snape's stormy face once more. This time there was no doubt the anger was aimed squarely at Harry.

"Alright, let's get one thing completely straight Harry, you are not at fault here. You did nothing wrong, except for isolating yourself from your friends and from me in the past month! Stop with the Christ Complex shit. I said it in the heat of the moment and do not believe it in the least, and you sure as hell shouldn't."

He and Harry locked eyes for a moment before Snape leaned down, gently capturing Harry's lips with his own, massaging the red flesh with his thin, rough lips. Tentatively, he prodded Harry's entrance with his tongue and felt it open slowly, hesitantly. The kiss held no countable amount of careful calculation, of insecurity, of need. Snape's hand ran through Harry's hair, and the other pulled the boy closer by his neck.

When they finally broke off, Harry's eyes gleamed with a life Snape had not seen there since…since third year, when he had believed he would be leaving to live with his godfather.

"I need you, I need you to train me, Severus," Harry whispered, his face lit with deadly determination. It still lacked self-forgiveness, there was still deep-seated hatred in him somewhere, but for now his determination could stave off what that self-destructive path could cause. "Next time, I'm going to be ready."

A/N: So in my defence I wrote this years ago…I'll change it a lot when I get around to re-writing the New Dark Lord but that won't be until the trilogy is over. Thank you for bearing with me. This chapter is sort of used to rush along Harry's self-hatred stage as there is plenty more angst to come!

**Next Week: **Harry and Snape train as the final battle looms close, in the third last chapter of The New Dark Lord: **Moral Support**


	12. Moral Support

**Chapter 12: Moral Support**

Harry had by no means started hanging around with his friends or become a social butterfly after his interaction with Snape in his office. Nor had he and Snape moved forward in their relationship, the kiss had been a kiss. For now, when all of his focus had to be on what lay ahead, it could mean nothing more.

Now Harry trained hard. He went to all of his lessons, learnt and practiced, he trained five times a week with Snape, learning Dark hexes, how to block said curses, and had insisted twice on having a few of the worst placed on him so he understood what they felt like. After the third one of these left him with a twitch that didn't go away for a week – Snape refused to try any more.

McGonagall took him on to teach in advanced Transfiguration, and began work on his animagus shape. She had told him that in a battle distractions could cost you your life, but could also save it, if you were the one causing the distraction. Changing form was an excellent way to confuse someone, as was transfiguring something nearby to move or attack. Harry was an animagus in seven months time – a new record.

He did physical exercise as well, slipping easily back into the routine he had given up after the failure. His morning consisted of waking up two hours early, stretching thoroughly for twenty minutes, then running up and down the great marble stairs, from the top to the bottom for an hour. This was followed by half an hour of arm and leg strengthening exercises, and a ten minute warm down.

After that, he could be found eating breakfast in the Great Hall. He still sat a little way away from his friends, as if not completely trusting them, as much as feeling guilt bear heavily down. They had not given up on him though, continually chatting to him, despite his lack of response, reassuring him that he would be okay, that they had his back and would be his friend's forever.

Harry often seemed to be contemplating moving forward but something, either from the battle or the vision beforehand, stopped him. Snape had thought about it during their training sessions in Occlumency, and ordered the boy to tell him about the vision as well as a complete version of the events of the battle.

The latter he only convinced Harry to do after promising he could get Albus off his back by having his Professor do his dirty work. After learning of what had happened during the battle Snape finally understood Harry's 'irrational' guilt. Indeed, he felt it himself for having been what set the boy off in the first place.

The vision had set him in a clearer mind of why Harry always seemed so edgy and suspicious these days. The young man had the reflexes of a fox, and the stealth of one as well. Snape was aware he hadn't had either the previous year, simply due to the amount of times Snape had easily realised he was out after curfew.

Harry threw himself into his studies and training with such a passion that Snape knew, with a growing dread, that he intended to face the Dark Lord again before the end of the year. He had almost said as much as he practiced fist-fighting one night with Snape, who was surprisingly good at it.

"You don't have to exhaust yourself every training session," Snape pointed out dryly, watching Harry duck a punch the magic opponent threw at him and return one immediately. "Good but remember to duck, block _then_ attack," he instructed.

"Of course I have to," Harry panted, flicking sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes. "You think Voldie's gonna let me have a rest in the middle of our battle?" He's taken it to calling it 'their' battle, meaning him and Voldemort, which disturbed Snape for no good reason.

"Do not address the Dark Lord in that manner, Potter," he replied lazily. "Imagine if you let that one slip in his presence."

"It's Harry, sir," he retorted, avoiding a second onslaught of punching and kicks with a deft twist of his body as he lashed out in a round-the-house kick that floored his opponent, which lay there with a countdown from ten illuminated in the air above it until it got to 0, when it promptly stood back up and shook Harry's hand.

"Well fought," it said, before walking back into its cupboard.

"Besides, I think you're right. Tom is much more suitable," added Harry with a slightly cheeky grin. He still had a sense of humour, but only around Snape. Snape rolled his eyes in exasperation. He opened his mouth for a scathing remark, thus setting off their nightly banter of insults when he gasped slightly and clutched his arm. His eyes met Harry's and the young man looked furious. He knew what had happened.

"Go," he murmured. "I'll tell Professor Dumbledore…" Snape nodded and made his way to his spelled drawers, which he opened, then muttered a few extra passwords until he was in the drawer which kept his robes and mask. He didn't put them on here, too much chance of someone walking in. He bundled them under his current robes and made his way over to the fire when he heard Harry's determined voice again. "And don't worry, you'll only have to put up with it until the end of the year."

Snape had had no time to reply as the Floo already took him away.

The months seemed to rush by in a blur of training, lessons and exams. Most of the body of Hogwarts were getting excited to see the holidays approach, discussing plans for travel and visiting family and friends.

Harry Potter made no such plans.

He trained.

He learned.

And he honed his body.

He was prepared.

He was ready.

Snape watched him as he stretched in the morning, preparing for one last run up and down Hogwarts' stairs. Every muscle in his body rippled with tense readiness. He shivered, looking at the power the young man now wore like a cloak. He saw Harry run a hand over his shoulder, it still gave him trouble occasionally though his face had healed completely, with no scarring much to his relief.

Harry's face was set in complete determination and preparation for what he knew had to come. Snape watched as he ran, recovering quickly from his puffing when he reached the top of the flights of stairs and began his decent. Snape could have wept at the fact that they boy was going to face something which had made him having recurring nightmares since he was a child, this time armed with the knowledge that either Voldemort or he must die. There would be no more training for this.

Snape wasn't really sure what it was that told him today was the day the battle would have to be. He didn't know why, nor did any of the other Order members who had been rallied into a state of readiness. It seemed odd, at least to him, that the whole wizarding world was carrying on about their business, like nothing was going to happen. Of course they weren't aware, the Order wasn't about to go public with the information. It would be like yelling 'Hey Voldie, set up an ambush and make sure I die won't you?' But for some reason whenever Snape had envisioned the final battle it had been like the whole wizarding world had stopped to wait with baited breath, not like children were running around planning trips one week away from holidays. It was almost an anti-climax.

Harry arrived back in front of him suddenly, panting slightly, his cheeks flushed as he fought to slow his racing heart and stop his loud breathing in a manner which Snape had taught him. Silence could one day save his life. Snape watched Harry straighten up, aware of the fierce determination entering the green eyes again.

There would be no time for lessons or other training today. They decided the time Voldemort would expect an attack would be during the night, thus they intended to head out at 0800 hours sharp.

"Hmm?" Snape inquired, glancing down at the boy…no definitely not a boy any more, the young man who had clearly just spoken to him.

"I said, you'd better come out of this alive," Harry repeated quietly, his face deadly serious.

"I do intend too," Snape replied dryly.

"'Intent is not enough, one must have will and conviction if they are to succeed.'"

Snape allowed a smirk to grace his lips. Harry had just quoted at him his own words from their first training session many months previous.

"In that case I have intent, will and conviction, if only so I may speak to you like a normal human in public," he added with a large smirk.

Harry did something he was sure neither of them were expecting. He threw his arms around his Professor's waist and pulled him close, hugging him tightly. Snape ran a hand through the young warrior's hair, allowing the silky locks to drip between his fingers as he used his other hand to pull Harry closer.

"You can never disappoint me, Harry. Every thing you ever do, every mistake you make, then fix, every second of the day when you stumble and fall, I'll help you, and I'll be proud of you," he murmured softly, allowing the honey-dripped words to fall upon Harry's ears. He felt the teenager's heart beating faster, he could feel the sheer nerves he hid as he clutched onto Snape's robes with everything he had.

They parted, finally.

"He won't break your spirit again, I promise," Harry whispered, reaching up to pull Snape's face down so he could rest his forehead against his narky potions professor, masterfully avoiding a crash of noses.

"I know Harry. I know you well enough to know you can do this. I will not let any harm befall you, I promise," Snape vowed.

They stood there like that for a moment longer. Snape was vaguely aware of the Hufflepuff girls who stood in a corner, watching the display in pure shock and horror. The soon-to-be-saviour-of-the-wizarding-world was hugging their ugly, git of a potions professor.

"You'd better come out of this okay, I mean that," Harry said solemnly.

"I mean the same," Snape replied, gently touching Harry's cheek as he drew away. "Now we'd better hurry up or else Albus will have our necks. Merlin knows it won't do if he forces me to eat another Lemon Drop to avoid tardiness."

Harry's mouth twitched. He couldn't imagine the potions master being late for anything.

"Yes, they are rather punishing aren't they? A bit hard on the sinuses," he added, tapping Snape's long, crooked nose with his finger before drawing away. "Well I'd hate for anything to happen to your nose, so come on."

Snape fell into step beside Harry as the young man walked toward Dumbledore's office, and the looming knowledge that he would have to kill again.

Snape rested a hand on Harry's shoulder and Harry looked up, giving him a reckless Gryffindor grin, which didn't quite reach his eyes. Snape squeezed the shoulder and let his hand drop as the reached the moving gargoyle in front of Dumbledore's office.

Snape realised suddenly that he didn't even know the password for it anymore. He hadn't needed to come here in a while. He glanced sidelong at Harry who seemed to be preparing himself, squaring his shoulders as he stepped forward.

"Justice to Voldemort!" he spoke, his voice didn't tremble, he was proud of the conviction and power in his own words. The gargoyle did not just jump to the side, it uttered a tiny 'good luck' and gave a half-bow before shifting.

Harry strode forth onto the moving stairs, radiating his own power, secure in the knowledge that this was it. Today if he had to kill again, he would never have to after this one day. After the final battle.

They entered Dumbledore's office, Snape close on Harry's heels. It was already packed with talking Order members, all of whom fell silent as they saw who walked through the door. Harry supposed it seemed odd, him and Snape walking in together.

Every one of these people were about to risk their lives, just to let him have a chance to destroy Voldemort. What if he failed them? He shivered slightly, but left his face in its determined stance. He thought about taking the easy way out, running as fast as he could, to Mexico, or somewhere, but he knew he couldn't. He knew he couldn't leave these people to certain doom.

"What's on your mind?" Snape murmured, so softly that no one else heard him, despite the silence.

"Just thinking about taking an easy way out," Harry replied honestly.

"And will you?" Snape already knew the answer; Harry was sure, as he shook his head.

"Well, let's get on with it," he said, his voice loud and strong. 'Now that's not something I thought I'd ever be saying before a war,' he thought wryly, perching on the edge of Professor Dumbledore's desk. He knew everyone was watching him, searching for a fault. Apparently they found none, because they turned their faces back to Dumbledore as he began to talk.

"We have gathered here, as you are aware, before what will indubitably be the last battle we must fight against Lord Voldemort. He has been weakened to a point over the year, having lost twenty odd Death Eaters, with nine of these having been taking down by young Harry here." Dumbledore paused to wave his hand to Harry.

Harry's stomach lurched. He'd killed nine people in a year? Jesus, he hadn't even wanted to kill one in a lifetime. And Dumbledore was parading the fact. Also, in other circumstances, he would have been offended to be called 'young Harry' but it was true. He was young, far too young for this. He wasn't so sure he could do this anymore.

"We march out onto the battlefield today, already scarred. We have lost people, brave people, ready to fight for their cause. We remember them, many lost to us at the hand of the foe we seek to fight and destroy today."

Trust Dumbledore to use as many words as possible to say something as simple as 'we've lost people to Voldemort'.

"Today we will go forth, and take back what is rightfully ours. The ability to live in peace, to be able to walk down our streets at night without fearing an attack."

Harry swallowed heavily. He couldn't do this. He didn't trust these people. He could still hear their laughter as the white shield got smaller and smaller, preparing to suck the last breath out of him.

"We must fight with courage, and pride in ourselves. We must have conviction, and be prepared for whatever the enemy throw at us. For once we must be ruthless, for they shall be. We must work as one."

Harry tuned out and stood up, aware of drawing the attention of much of the room as he walked over to the window and peered out. He took in the grounds, the Forbidden Forest, the Quidditch Pitch, the Herbology Greenhouses. Would he ever see them again? Or fly in the Quidditch Pitch? Would he ever see Atilia, Hatha, Quirti or Werrina again? Would he get the chance to talk with Norbert, or see Pip grow up?

He felt the sting of tears in his eyes and closed them, shuddering unconsciously as he felt movement behind him. A hand rested on the nape of his neck and Snape leaned close.

"Harry, you will see it all again. You will fly, and no doubt wander into places you shouldn't be in the dead of night. You will undoubtedly blow up another cauldron, and successfully attempt to burn down the Restricted Section in the dead of night when Filch catches you out of bounds and you struggle to put your invisibility cloak on again. You will speak to your strange animal friends again, and you will slip in and out of the secret passages. You will do and see it all again Harry, after today."

The room had fallen silent as Snape spoke, even Dumbledore had stopped talking. Harry remembered that Snape no longer had to put up his façade in front of these people, he no longer had to pretend to hate the-boy-who-hopefully-would-live-again. Harry chuckled at the thought.

"What?" Snape sounded relatively happy that Harry seemed to have cheered up a little.

"Just thinking about you not having to fake your hate of me any more. It might just become obvious to Voldemort that you're not on his side when you march into battle beside me won't it?"

Snape allowed himself a slight smile, breaking his composure.

"Beside you?" he inquired.

"Beside me," Harry confirmed with a firm nod. "As in by my side. I can't protect you if you're on the other side of the battlefield now can I?"

"Or I you," Snape agreed, deciding to let the young man have the 'I'll protect you' line just this once.

"Ready?" Harry asked with a brave smile as the siren set about the room. He felt hope build in his chest as he turned to face said siren. Fawkes had his beak upturned as he sung that beautiful song.

"Are you?" Snape retorted dryly.

"As I'll ever be," Harry answered, setting his shoulders firmly. "Bring it on!"

"Reckless Gryffindor," he chorused along with Snape, and they shared a grin, and suddenly, Harry was sure, he knew he was ready.

**A/N: Many apologies for the late post – Christmas brought about somewhat of a family crisis. However I will post the next chapter on Wednesday – cross my heart. – And…only two reviews for this chapter : ( Gimme a good Christmas present guys – let's make it five for this one.**

**Next Wednesday: **Harry and Snape walk into battle for the last time. Who comes out victorious? Find out in **Chapter 13: Potter's Day**


	13. Potter's Day

**Chapter 13: Potter' Day**

Harry shivered. He was alone again. As requested he had walked onto the battlefield with Snape at his side, and Dumbledore had requested to be at his other. Harry had agreed, only because of his trust in Severus' ability to protect him. But it had not been long until they had been split up. Snape had been quickly attacked by fellow Death Eater who recognised him as a traitor. Harry had wanted to stop and help but Dumbledore had hurried him along as re-enforcements from the Order arrived, he did pause long enough to let Harry hear Snape's parting words 'I'll see you before it's over'. Not long afterwards, Dumbledore had had to stop to fight Bellatrix, urging Harry to continue.

Harry felt slightly worried at the fact that they were nowhere near Hogwarts. As Dumbledore had said, the Order would want an out wouldn't they? Well once Harry had used the tracking spell to locate Voldemort they had no chance of having one. They had found him in a huge, barren area that had been hidden from muggles. It was almost like the Simpson Desert, and definitely as big.

The battlefield was long and bloody. There was no distinguishing between good or evil out here. Now, it was simply a fight to stay alive. If someone attacked, you defended yourself. If someone looked off, you attacked. Blood pooled everywhere, you were lucky to find dry land. The battle was covered in a kind of black and white haze, sometimes black was stronger then white, sometimes the white would be stronger then the black.

Harry shivered again, this was too exactly like his vision. His fear was building as he moved hurriedly along, stopping occasionally to hex a Death Eater who had his or her back to him. He helped Flitwick out of a spot of bother, and was relieved that the man was not lying splayed out on the ground as in the vision.

Around him the fight waged on, but no Death Eaters got in his way. He wondered momentarily if it had anything to do with what Snape had murmured into his ear before the battle, as he run his wand up and down Harry's back so softly. What had it been?

"_Furtim, servo tutus, per diligo," _Harry murmured quietly to himself. He had thought Snape had been saying something in Latin to help Harry felt stronger, which it had done, but now he had a sneaking suspicion it had done significantly more then that.

The invisibility spell Dumbledore had placed on him, however briefly it would work, was also doing the trick. It was a very hard and draining spell to perform and Harry suddenly felt cold. What if Snape had used up his magic to make Harry even more invisible? But the words hadn't sounded anything like the invisibility spell, more like…the stealth spell he had once heard Ron trying to work in the dorm, without success – plus something extra. The stealth spell caused much the same affect as what was on the Leaky Cauldron. Except not just muggle eyes slid over Harry. Every Death Eater to look at him looked as though there was nothing there, whereas the Order members were giving him encouraging nods before turning to battle again.

Harry pressed on, the new knowledge making him feel safe as he forced himself to go faster. The sooner he did the deed, the sooner the battle was over. The sooner Severus was safe.

His heart leapt into his throat as he saw an Order member fall. He rushed the Death Eater. No Mercy, he reminded himself of the words Snape had bored into him in the past months.

"_Avada Kedavra_!" he growled his wand pointed straight at the black cloak. He saw the green flash and the figure fall. This time, he did not look to see the face of the Death Eater, or that of the Light side advocate. Snape had taught him never to allow himself to become distracted.

"_You can cry and have your little hissy fit as many times as you like after the battle, during the fight nothing matters barring you getting to Voldemort and killing him." _

All the same Harry's mind clouded over as he pressed on, now his target was honed. He had to kill Voldemort. He had to do battle with the most powerful wizard…most powerful _evil_ wizard of all time, he corrected himself, and he had to win for this all to just finish. Just be done. After everything, after all of the time it had taken him, all the people he had lost in order to get to this point in the war-effort, Harry felt unbelievably old and weary. He just wanted to go somewhere with no one else around and…sleep? He didn't know, just _anything_.

He growled and pushed on, ignoring the copious amount of blood that was splashing up onto his robes, not thinking for a moment that it would hinder him in anyway. He continued on, glancing to the left of him when he saw a sudden movement.

"Shit!" he yelped as he fell to the ground, the curse hitting his thigh rather then his chest. He had not counted on the spell's not working on outside substances.

"_Petrificus Totalis!" _he bellowed, pointing at the Death Eater who had hit him. He didn't have enough intent compared to surprise in him at that moment to kill. He stood and limped towards the felled Death Eater. "_Avada Kedavra!" _

Green.

Still.

Nothing.

Harry's breathing was harsh and heavy as he heard a voice over the calamity of shouting voices and colourful lights.

"_Get the boy!" _

'Shit. That's not good,' he thought to himself, hearing Snape's voice in his mind.

'Eloquent as always, Potter.'

Voldemort's voice struck as much fear into the Death Eaters' as it did to Harry as they all turned and loomed towards him. A fair few were stopped by Order members, but, Harry noticed desperately, the dark side seemed to be winning. No! NO! He would not let that happen.

He set himself at the ready as the first of twelve Death Eaters reached him. He could not kill them all, or he would be too weak to attack Voldemort. The taunts of the Death Eaters began to meet his ears.

"You're a coward. A _Gryffindor_ coward!" taunted the first, coming forward and shooting a pale yellow light at him. Harry jumped out of the way.

"If I'm the coward, why does your master send you out to do his dirty work?" he demanded, shooting off an unspoken body-binder hex even as he spoke, affectively rendering the Death Eater useless.

"You are going to die, brat!" came a hissed voice through the next mask. "Just like your mutt of a godfather that you loved so much!"

"Which one? Remus or Sirius?" Harry replied calmly. He would not get emotional. "Because both of them loved me, and I loved them both in return," he added, swiftly rolling away from a jet of black light, curious as to why the Death Eaters were not all attacking at once or trying to kill him. But he wasn't ready to look a gift horse in the mouth at this moment in time.

"Aww…how touching," the Death Eater sneered.

"And love is a damn powerful thing," Harry added. "_Caecus scindo!" _he finished, shooting a bolt of grey light slightly to the left of where the Death Eater was standing.

"You'll have to do better then that," she jeered. Harry just smiled coolly. It had been a deliberate miss. He had just rendered two of the Death Eaters behind her blind, and they would not go shooting half-cocked in case they hit a comrade.

"I'm afraid my aim is not quite as bad as you believe," he retorted smoothly. "Look."

He couldn't believe it, she called his bluff, even though it wasn't one, she looked. She was petrified so fast she wouldn't have had time to register that he had actually hit other Death Eaters.

He knew now why they were taking turns. They saw he wouldn't kill and they were playing with him. Harry gritted his teeth and set himself ready as a third stepped forward, aware with shock that he was surrounded. The two blundering blind ones had even taken a place and stood still.

"I heard that prattle about love, Potter," it was another woman. "Delightful I must admit, although that worthless _dog_ mutt godfather of yours…can't have loved you too much could he? Didn't put up much of a fight. Of course that could have just been his duelling in general."

So Bellatrix had escaped from Dumbledore's wrath. Harry set his jaw and prepared himself for what would no doubt be a very hard and fast onslaught of curses. Despite his preparations the first curse was unexpected and he growled at himself mentally as he just made it out of the way. He forgot she didn't need to speak to make the spells work!

"Oooh…I see you have inherited your father's lack of talent for Quidditch," Bellatrix snorted. She ducked easily as Harry sent a hex at her. "And you'll have to do better then that boy!"

"_Petrificus!" _Harry snarled, shooting it right at her heart. Once again Bellatrix darted away and kept on her toes tauntingly.

"You're as bad a shot as he was! I wonder, will you look so delightfully shocked as he did?" she smirked. "I rather think you will, although it won't take so long for you to hit the ground."

Harry could remember watching his godfather's decent through the veil like it was yesterday. If he truly stopped to think about it he would cry, so he forced himself to continue paying attention to the rather more dire situation at hand with a crisp 'what's done is done.'

"_Universa somes redimio!" _he bellowed. Once more Bellatrix stepped out of the way, but Harry noticed with mild satisfaction that the Death Eater behind her was not so quick to move this time and found himself sprawled in a flat board-like state in a matter of moments, at the mercy of the harder body-binding curse.

It gave him an out at least, if he required one.

'Oh and that's not looking likely at all,' said the sarcastic part of his brain.

Harry brought himself back down to earth with a thud as he realised that a deadly green curse had just missed his ear. PAY ATTENTION, he scolded himself.

"_Stupefy!" _he cried. He could have sworn that spell struck her but obviously he was wrong because she shot one back immediately. "Shit!" Harry fell to the ground, rolled and jumped up as fast as he could, avoiding another hex along the way.

"_Stupefy! Er…Petrificus Totalis! Impedimenta!" _He was certainly not winning this battle, as Bellatrix easily avoided each of his spells. And he was supposed to fight the Dark Lord? Harry snorted in derision at himself.

"That all you got?" Bellatrix mocked. "Even that half-breed put up more of a fight then you, even that mongrel cousin of mine."

Draining himself be damned.

"_Crucio!" _Harry felt the words come out of his mouth with so much fury, so much hate that he knew it would work. He remembered his time at the ministry at the end of last year. 'You've got to mean it.' As the spell let up and Bellatrix was left panting in agony on the ground Harry smirked maliciously. "I meant it, Bellatrix."

She looked up, as though horrified he had remembered her words from the last battle.

"And I mean this…" Harry paused just sufficiently long enough to ensure she heard the last sentence. "_Avada Kedavra!" _

He saw the green shoot from his wand, with the giddy thought of how he was getting used to it, he even quite liked the colour, before it struck Bellatrix fairly on the chest. She hadn't stood a chance, trapped on the ground, Harry looming above her. He felt his stomach turn sickeningly as another Death Eater stepped forward.

Then that god-awful voice rose above the clamour, probably carried on the _Sonorous_ charm.

"_I said kill the boy!" _

'Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!' were his muddled thoughts as the remaining six Death Eaters lurched forward. "_Stupefy! Petrificus…_ugh!" Harry fell to the ground as he felt a spell graze his ear.

Right well this was dignified, he chuckled insanely for a moment. He hadn't even made it to attack Voldemort before dying. Lovely. He saw the flashes of two very powerful spells. He smiled ever so slightly as he waited for death.

'Here I come Sirius, Remus, Mum, Dad,' he grinned. 'Finally, here I come.'

Harry watching in wonder as the Death Eaters fell, three to the first spell, and three to the second. He cocked his head to the side and groaned as one fell atop of him, effectively breaking a rib he was sure. God it hurt! He couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe, he…could breathe. Sort of. Better. As strong hands threw the Death Eater off him and grabbed him under his arms.

Snape.

"You saved me," Harry whispered.

"It's not over," Snape pointed out, scanning the battlefield for an opening. Apparently he found it because he dragged Harry off in a direction that was pretty much the way he had been going. "And I said I'd see you before it was over did I not?"

"You sure did!" Harry replied, sounding extremely childish. The look Snape gave him was pained, but it did not seem to be pained in the god-your-painful-to-know-and-the-fact-the-fate-of-my-world-and-life-rests-on-your-shoulders-appalls-me. More like it pained him to realised just how old Harry was, and what he had been put through far too many times.

"Come on, we're almost there, it's almost over," he comforted, aware of Harry gasping for breath and guessing correctly that he was probably injured more then he was letting on by his limp. Harry nodded though, with another gasp as he pushed forth.

'Damn, brave, foolish Gryffindor,' Snape sighed.

They kept going, Harry stumbling occasionally and Snape blowing away a few approaching Death Eaters. As they walked Harry could see the outline of…something in the distance. Magic definitely. It was a deep greenish-black, a strange combination with wisps of silver throughout it.

"Sir? What is…"

"Severus, Harry," Snape interrupted absent-mindedly. "I said you could call me that at the start of the year, I do wish you would persist."

"You said not in public," Harry replied, shocked to be having this conversation in the dire situation they were in.

"I hardly think anyone's going to mind in out current predicament do you?" Snape retorted scathingly.

"Glad to see you've kept your sense of humour, si…Severus," Harry said, his face still pulled in a tight line as beads of terrified sweat ran down his forehead. Snape gave him a small smile.

"Anyway that," he motioned towards the black spiral of magic. "Is our goal. I would suggest that that looks like a good place for Voldemort be wouldn't you?" Harry agreed.

'And if that's his magic then he's making himself weaker!' he thought, a strange elated feeling jumping up in his chest, almost as if he'd already won. He shot the man beside him a sharp glance.

"I'm warning you, Severus. If you dare to get yourself killed on some ridiculous rescue mission I'm never going to forgive you."

"Since when am I the one with a Christ Complex?" Snape demanded, raising a thin eyebrow. The corners of his mouth tugged though, letting Harry know it was a joke. The young man beside him looked resolute though, crossing his arms across his chest even as they neared their destination. "I won't. Someone needs to keep you in line."

Harry just nodded in acknowledgement, a heavy lead weight settling in his chest again as he realised how close he was to his destiny. And just how real it was.

"Stay here," he commanded suddenly.

"What?" Snape baulked.

"I have to do this on my own," Harry murmured. "Just stay here."

Snape looked for a moment like he was going to argue, then conceded, stopping and resting a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder before settling himself in to wait and stop any Death Eaters who might try and come to their master's rescue.

Harry strode forward, towards this, towards his fate, his inevitable last battle, last fulfilment. His heart was pounding hard in his chest, he likened it to the pounding of drums when people walked towards the nooses to die. Every step made him feel more like his legs would give. He had to do this, he knew it, but he couldn't…he _couldn't_!

Harry stood just outside of the shivering barrier, afraid to touch it. What was it? Would it suck him inside, as the veil had Sirius? Would it take all of the Light out of him? What if it turned him into Voldemort? Something worse then Voldemort?

"Go on, Harry," a voice urged him. "It's safe. I promise."

Harry looked up, he saw Dumbledore standing next to Snape. It was he who had spoken. Dumbledore? Harry looked dubious. He wasn't sure he trusted the man yet. He glanced to Snape. The man nodded gravely, his face a strange mixture of caution and encouragement. He nodded again and Harry copied the action in return.

Turning back to the strange shimmering veil of magic Harry took a deep breath.

'Here goes nothing,' he gasped one last huge breath and _threw_ himself into the magic. He felt a hot pain in his chest, like someone had boiled a dagger and then driven it into his torso, his scar felt like it had split open and he felt it bleeding. He almost screamed from the agony but reminded himself what Snape had taught him. Silence could save his life.

So he straightened, and time seemed to freeze. Voldemort stood in front of him, lazily twirling his wand in his fingers as two Death Eaters held up the spell around him.

'Shit, fuck, shit,' Harry's emerald eyes opened wide. Voldemort would not be drained of any power, but Harry certainly was.

"Indeed, Potter," Voldemort agreed, his eyes glinting in a half-crazed way. Harry was sure the man was mad. And, oh Merlin, he had just read Harry's mind. Harry was swift as he blocked the man out using Occlumency. "Very nice," Voldemort chuckled. "But Severus was kind enough to tell me he was going to be teaching you Occlumency, lovely that, gave you a wonderful false sense of security didn't it? Thought Dumbledore was ensuring your own safety?"

Harry ignored the words. He blocked his mind firmly and stared defiantly at Voldemort.

"What, Tom, you really expect me to believe that bullshit?" he sneered. "Severus has been helping me train, he's the one who got me to this point, ready to destroy you."

"DO NOT CALL ME BY THAT FILTHY NAME!" Voldemort roared, little bits of lightening dancing around his head.

Harry kept his gaze steady, feeling his own power growing steadily around him, causing his robes to flutter in an invisible breeze.

"Why? That is your real name, what else am I to call you? Surely you don't expect me to refer to you by your pseudonym 'Lord' do you?" Harry chuckled, his voice remarkably steady. "I'm afraid you've been living in the Dark for far too long, my friend, it's about time someone kicked you off your precious pedestal."

Harry smirked, happy with Voldemort's anger as he spoke the words, especially 'my friend.'

"Hard learning some home truths, Tom?" he asked innocently.

Voldemort suddenly did something that unsettled Harry beyond any curse or spell he could have thrown at him. He threw his head back and laughed. A spine-chilling, malicious I-know-something-you-don't laughed. He laughed and laughed, the Death Eaters beside him joined in.

"Home truths? Harry look around, see what 'home truths' Dumbledore has been keeping from you. Of course you're right about Severus, such an innocent wrapped up in all of this. Honestly, believing he could spy on me, by going to my partner!"

Voldemort continued to laugh, waving his hand at the barrier to put even more emphasis on the fact Harry should look. He didn't want to, he wanted to kill Voldemort, right then and there, but he knew that until he looked he couldn't. Some unforgivable pull made him stare out at what would no doubt be a morbid scene.

Dumbledore had the usual twinkle in his blue eyes, but the twinkle no longer seemed to be that of a kindly old grandfather, but one of malicious intent.

"You fell for it, you received the vision and you still fell for it," he laughed. Turning his head to the sky to allow the full bellyful of laughter to be released to the heavens. "Voldemort is quite right, of course. Severus is completely innocent, just like the others who had to die."

"No," Harry whispered as realisation dawned on his face at the same time as Snape's. "NO! YOU CAN'T DO THIS!"

"Oh, but I already have, Harry," Dumbledore smirked, pointing his wand at Snape. "Good-bye Severus, you were such a help."

Snape barely had time to look outraged before a green light flashed and he collapsed to the ground, still.

"No! NO! NOOO!" Harry was screaming, he knew it as he threw himself up repetitively against the barrier, not caring the pain it brought upon him as he tried desperately to break through. "You fucking bastard! You fucking bastard scum!"

He could see them all, some of them just looked smug, others were laughing along with Voldemort. Hermione and Ron had walked up to flank Dumbledore, Ron giving Snape's dead body a sharp kick as he did so.

"So handy," he almost purred. "Having your two best friends as spies, well, along with the teachers at Hogwarts, there wasn't much Dumbledore and Voldemort didn't know about you, Harry." He smirked as Harry stared, gob smacked, betrayed tears running down his face. It had to be true, Ron had never been able to say the Dark Lord's name, but then he had, easy as that.

Harry turned back to Voldemort. He was going to die. He knew that for sure. Even if he escaped the Dark Lord's clutches once more he knew Dumbledore would kill him. He raised his wand. If he was going to die, the least he could do would be to put up a fight. He felt his face settle into hard fury. He was doing this for his parents, for Cedric, for Ginny, for Snape, for Remus and Sirius. He felt his ferocity build, the small wind whipping around him blowing up into a gale. His magic was gathering. He felt himself drift a few centremetres above the ground.

"_Expelliarmus!" _he growled, his eyes in slits. It was not what Voldemort had been expecting as his wand was snatched from his fingers, from where he had been fiddling so carelessly with it. Harry reached out to grab it. "Funny, isn't it?" he breathed heavily. "How, unless the brother wand is actually attempting to oppose the other you don't get your extra protection?"

With that he snapped the wand clean in half. Voldemort actually looked a little worried now, Harry was happy to see. Every bone in his body was throbbing with the need to destroy this man, to kill him. Then to kill every other person on this battlefield. Everyone else who had lured him here under false pretences, who were getting some sort of sick, perverted thrill out of seeing him in so much distress.

He felt his magic swirling harder and watched as the silver, black, greenish screen shimmered. He concentrated as his magic pushed hard against the boundaries, needing to be let out. The gale force winds were howling in wrath around him as he put himself behind the barrier and _pushed_ with all of his magic.

The barrier fell and his howling magic escaped with a gleeful wail. Harry stayed levitating partway off the ground, his smaller vortex circling him, staring down at a shivering Voldemort, now clearly worried. He did not move his eyes, did not look another of the betrayers in the eye. He was going to say his last words, speak the words that would go down in the history books before he killed Voldemort and died himself.

For just the vaguest second he thought wryly of the words of the prophesy and added his own.

_Neither can live while the other survives '_But it says nothing about the other not dying whilst the other has died.'

He had spent so long without reading into the words, content to accept Dumbledore's views on the matter. Well no more! He would destroy Voldemort, even if he had to go down with him. He would destroy Voldemort like the Dark Lord had destroyed him. Like Voldemort had destroyed Harry's friends and family.

Harry stood taller, allowing his magic, now a swirling vortex around him, to lift him even higher.

"This is for the people who stood their ground! For Remus and Sirius, who never backed down when faced with you!" Harry shouted staunchly, his voice deep and loud, carrying easily over the entire battlefield on the vortex of his magic, sending ripples of fear through the Death Eaters, who had no doubt that they were the one's who had backed down, who didn't stand their ground, who'd let themselves be taken over by the Dark, showing they were no stronger then a pawn in a chess match.

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!_" There was a rush as the Dark Lord fell, disintegrating and the pieces swiftly caught up in the wind of Harry's magic.

Everyone who had ever lied to him, manipulated him, attacked him, hurt him.

Everyone who'd been his friends, mentors, teachers, enemies.

Everyone who'd 'battled' to help him, and to hinder him.

Everyone who he thought he knew.

Everyone he hated.

Everyone watched Harry Potter vanquish the Dark Lord.

A/N: Well first I hope you all had wonderful Christmas' or whatever you celebrate! Secondly, thank you so much to my wonderful reviewers especially Ater Phasma who also reviewed the last chapter :P and for _Devan.Snape's_ review I put this chapter up early – so she could read it before work : )

It's up to you guys – I'm leaving for my holiday on Wednesday and won't be back for at least two weeks. I can put up the epilogue tomorrow (not Thursday – as that'll be my birthday : ) ) Or it can wait till after my holidays. A few reviews should do the trick :P

To everyone who reviewed the last chapter – they were awesome Chrissy presents, thank you so much!


	14. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Harry Potter awoke to a bright light. He grimaced, 'well death, here I come. How long you have hunted me'. He opened his eyes and his smile fell. Shit, no. Why the hell was he here? His eyes adjusted slowly.

Why was he at Hogwarts?

And why the hell was his bedside so crowded?

"He's woken up!" a voice cried.

"Finally, get out of the way," came a second, crisp and rather distinct voice. Harry was all too familiar with Madame Pomfrey. He felt the shape of a wand run over him as someone placed his glasses, new ones, Severus had given them to him, upon his nose. "Drink this, Potter," she commanded, shoving something at him as he struggled to sit up straight, flinching away from the eager hands straining to help.

"What is it?" he snapped, his head aching. "Poison? Trying to be subtle now, Dumbledore? Now your little buddy's gone?" Harry had no doubt the headmaster was in the room with him.

The room fell to a hush and a few girls gasped. Did he even know the people in the room?

"Harry," came Dumbledore's gentle voice. "You're recovering from severe magic drain…" Harry reached out and grabbed his wand which was sitting on the bedside table, did these idiots really think a little magic drain was going to stop him protecting himself?

"Kiss my arse!" he spat, ignoring the shock of those people around him. "Get the fuck out of my way before I blast you out of it!" The kids around his bed hurried to comply and Harry leapt up, aware of how weak he _didn't _feel, although his leg was very sore.

He stumbled a second before moving towards the door, every fibre in his body crying out to be ready for attack. He felt his eyes crashing about like a stormy sea.

"Harry, I really must insist…"

"What's the matter, Dumbledore?" Harry sneered. "Not so hot without your precious crony now are we? No Voldemort to take to rap for your actions? Hmm?"

Dumbledore's head cocked to the side as he stood up, seemly unfolding his long limbs, and a small line appeared in between his white eyebrows.

"Harry, did Voldemort send you another vision?"

"Sure, yeah, he's dead and he's showing me another vision," Harry snarled, slowly moving away from the people crowding the room.

"I meant during the battle," Dumbledore continued patiently. "Because…"

"NO! No more fucking lies, Dumbledore," Harry's chest was heaving as he made it to the open door. "I'm not going to be manipulated any more. You're not getting out of it this time. I saw you laughing. _Saw_ it, and I was awake. Clearly not a vision. I saw you kill Severus. I'm warning you," his voice dropped to low and deadly levels. "You just unleashed a whole lot more hell!"

"Harry," Dumbledore tried again, voice clearly distressed by now. "Severus…" Harry felt a vicious pleasure in knowing it was _he _who had caused the old man such anguish.

"My name is not Harry Potter," Harry growled. "You killed Harry Potter, with lies, manipulation and secrets. Harry Potter is dead. But you're about to discover that you reap what you sow, Dumbledore. Just wait," Harry's face almost lit up in a manic grin. "Voldemort's gonna look like a puppy dog compared to me!"

And he turned and strode from the room, every step as purposeful as the ones he had made in the battle. Dumbledore was going down, at the hands of the new Dark Lord.

A/N: Well that's it for the New Dark Lord. The sequel, The Dark Phoenix, will be up probably in the next three weeks. This got up so fast thanks to a wonderful respose to the last chapter! Thanks for all the support guys! I'll be working on the dark phoenix on holidays so it will be up and running in two to three weeks. : ) Hope to have you onboard!

**SPOILER FOR The Dark Phoenix!!!** : There is HEAPS of snarry interaction in that I promise. Oh come on, you really didn't think we'd seen the last of Sev did ya?


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